randomslasher:

twentyonelizards:

– urgently marched into A&E and said ‘we’re having knee pain!!’ to the confused receptionist. i had to explain that it was only my knee and that he was just worried

– when asked to tag me in a meme of ‘what water are you?’, said ‘you are the ocean: home to all friends’

– loved ‘filthy gorgeous’ and, rather than learning the words, learned ‘all three parts in the song where they ring a triangle’

– after we had an argument about him not ‘getting’ my ADHD, i caught him halfway through a three hour playlist of lectures on ADHD, with a pen in hand, taking notes

– he suffered a TBI last summer and he did not like the orienting questions they ask (’what year is it? what day is it?’ etc). when asked ‘do you know where you are?’, he cracked one eye open and angrily said ‘in bed!’

– he played knack 2 and hated it. when i asked why he was still playing it, he said ‘so i never have to play it again’. he got every achievement and as soon as he got the last one he stood up, ejected the disc and returned it to the store

– lately he’s given up on making lunch so he just drinks huel which is a meal replacement shake, except huel is kind of boring so he sometimes puts nesquick strawberry powder in there

– my favourite drink is pepsi max. when asked about his dreams for the future, they often involve ‘being rich enough to find a way to pump pepsi max directly into our house’

– one time in our first year of dating i hadn’t seen him in weeks, whereas we normally saw each other all day every day, so i was gonna go stay with him for a couple days. he had a temporary job (i’m talking 2 weeks total) at the time and i was bummed that i was gonna be alone at his for a bit, but w/e. he was texting me like ‘work is going okay, in the line for the canteen right now’ while i got on the bus. i found the key where he said it was, i found a note on the table like ‘hi love! the wifi code is [password], I’ll be back at 5!’, and then I went into the lounge and he was there. he was lying on a fold-out bed with Marvin Gaye playing. the TV was on a powerpoint slide that said ‘Welcome, Jess. I quit my job.’ he was entirely naked except for a cushion with the letter ‘D’ over his crotch. im 95% sure there were candles

– we play the game Rimworld, where you micromanage a colony of people on an alien planet. he uses it entirely to simulate a peaceful colony, mostly of women, who have a large number of animals they care for and train. one time he got this random event where all the women in the colony got a psychic mood boost and he was like ‘honestly that’s my life goal’

– when he was in hospital and his cognitive functions were slowly coming back, he looked up from twitter with horror and said ‘jess… is the american president a racist?’

– we were playing Articulate, which is a game where you have to describe a word without saying the word itself. His partner said ‘when you’re beginning sex, you are…’. he, without a second of hesitation, yelled ‘FOREPLAY’. the answer was actually ‘initiating’, but my ego grew like fourteen times

– one time he asked me what guacamole was, and i told him, and he said ‘if it’s made up of things that already have names why does it have a different name?’ i have not let him live this down yet

– i used to have an eating disorder, and whilst i’m good 99.9% of the time now i occasionally do have wobbles. one time i’d eaten some mini-donuts and i told him ‘i kind of want to check the calories on those…’, so he immediately pulled the label off and ate it

– i lost him for like twenty minutes at a uni event, and when i found him he presented me with a pepsi max badge and said ‘i rode this mechanical bull to try and win you a year’s supply but i fell off pretty quickly. sorry.’

– we won the ‘best couple’ award in our year at uni, but neither of us were there to collect it because i was ill and he left halfway through to come home and take care of me

– one time he wasn’t paying attention while making lunch and he cracked an egg directly into the bin. the look of confusion on his face was priceless.

– on the rare occasions when i wake up before him, when i kiss him/ touch him he makes these little like… activation sounds? you know like when you touch a cat? it’s like those

This is the cutest thing I have read with my own eyes

raposinhachan:

weasowl:

weasowl:

weasowl:

20thcenturyvole:

probablybadrpgideas:

If Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why can’t humans be summoned by ants?
The answer is they should be.

Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.

That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name.

And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals – now you have to do us a favor.

And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?”

and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever.

And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done”

for some reason my brain won’t let go of this one, so….

Meanwhile another colony of ants invades your house, and evidently that last ant has gotten some of them to join her in a circle and taught them the ritual because you’re coming out of the bathroom one day and you hear the ants singing your name. Sure enough it’s that ant, but she’s dark and fucked up now, and she’s like, “kill the queen. I will rule this colony” and you’re like, sure, I guess I kinda owe her, and you do it. And she manages to become queen, and they worship you. Which is cool, you’re not, you know, very important in the human world, but to these ants you’re practically all-powerful. You can’t be just, doing everything a bunch of ants tell you to, though, when would you watch netflx? So you tend to only show up for super important ants; you teach them some extra words and when hear them you go see what’s up. Usually. Also just to your name, if you’re bored. And, sometimes some of the ants are like, tell us more human names, and you’re kind of jealous of the idea of some other human diluting your private godhood, so you refuse.

Your roommate Greg is like, yo, that’s fucking awesome, I want ant worshipers! But whenever he approaches any, they run away, because it turns out that the illusion of control from the named summoning is what makes them feel safe around you. That’s great, because Greg is a dick who never does the dishes, and one day you decide to teach Greg a lesson.

So you show up at the colony, and you’re like, “yo, witch queen, did you think there would be no price for all these things? Your colony must do something for me, go to the Room of the Housemate, I will meet you there.” And you go sit on the couch and play Overwatch for a while. You’re like, right there, you can clearly see the ants all marching along the wall to Greg’s room, but to them you’re not even there, you’re so far away they can’t see you. It takes them, like, an ant week to make the journey. They have to figure out ways to get over and around things. Some of them drown, or get stepped on by the dog, or whatever. You win a game, you lose a game, you look over, and they’re trying to get through some cobwebs… looks like they’re mostly going to live, you keep playing, you look over, okay they’re all in there, and you stand up and walk over and by the time they’ve chanted your name once, you’re there. “right, hold on” and you look around and you see a twelve-pack of Greg’s precious fucking soda, that he keeps in his room and refuses to ever share, even though it’s a communal food household and you share your hot chocolate with him all the time. So you gather the ants unto you, and you poke a little hole in each of the sodas and you leave the room to the sound of the ants rejoicing. Greg will suspect of course, but he’ll never be able to prove the ants didn’t chew holes in the plastic and steal his stupid drinks. 

But later, while you’re at work, Greg destroys most of the colony in a rage, and you come home to find the witch queen gasping her last “the Dew of the Mountain, which you had us steal, was cursed – and so I lay my curse on you” and then she dies.

Well first of all, you don’t really believe in curses, but last month you didn’t believe ants could know your name, so that’s unsettling. And second of all, you feel kind of bad. You know, not SUPER bad, cause she’s like, an ant. But still. And most importantly, third of all, Greg must pay.

But Greg has done more than kill a bunch of the colony. As you wait for eggs and pupae to replenish the ant population, you discover he has found some ants that didn’t go on the Mountain Dew raid, and he’s spared them, told them his name, and made himself a good sized cult in YOUR fucking ant queendom.

Greg has started locking his door. So now you NEED the ants. Once again you direct the ants loyal to you to journey to Greg’s room. You meet them at the door. A locked door means nothing to the ants, they don’t even know there is a door, and can barely perceive the difference between it being open and shut – either passing the threshold on the floor regardless, or being on its surface no matter the position. But you need them to get inside. You’re going to put itching powder in his underwear drawer and leave a raw fish under his bed. So you instruct the leading party of ants how to go into the Cave of Keyhole, and position the Magic Megaliths inside just right to enable the opening of the Great Door and allow you to pass into the Realm of Housemate.

Crouched by the door, you can hear when your ants are met by a party of Greg Cultists, who insist that if the Great Door is opened, the colony will be doomed. There is fighting. Your ants prevail, the lock tumblers are moved into place, and you swing the door open…

To find Greg! In his room all along! It’s a trap! His cultists attack you! I mean, they can’t do much real harm, but it kind of hurts and it’s super annoying. You order your ants to attack him, and they do, but he storms over and pours bleach down the colony entrance.

Now you and Greg are at war, and you both understand the unspoken rules to your fight. You can’t do things directly to each other, why, that would be assault. But anything you can get your ants to do is fine, because “she told the ants to do it to me” isn’t going to get very far with any authority figures that get involved. 

Later, nursing your anger, you confer with your few remaining ants and stare moodily at your new prize, the ant farm that came in the mail. Bullet ants don’t usually get along with sugar ants, but you’re betting they will if a god tells them to. Meanwhile, you’ve got a laptop schematic to go over with your high priestess. It’s finals week, and if you time it right, he’ll lose everything…

Feel free to add your own stories paralleling human/otherworldly with insect/human interactions!

I’m going to have this repost a few times because I want to see which of my mutuals are into this kind of thing because I’m preparing to test drive a fiction share and writing prompt project

The Idea of the old gods obeying us not because of supernatural reason, but because they think it’s funny to watch the tiny animals fight IS the answer to everything

lope-and-skelter:

fytehardman:

dear-tumb1r:

bvcknsteve:

bonfirebanshee:

Okay but surrealism aside all of these Southern Gothic posts are literally how the South is and I’m cackling. 

We’ve got creepy ass 24/7 diners that say open but you can’t find the staff for half an hour. 

There’s a haunted house and a murder/ghost story in every town. 

There’s always a fishing hole no one goes to because of a tragedy living in the waters. 

The woods are dark and hunting season is the only time you enter them. So many ghost stories. Haunted everything. 

The mountains are alive with the sound of screaming. 

Devil’s tramping grounds, hollers, woods, stones, you name it, we got it. 

The old people may be racist and bigoted, but they have skin-crawling tales of caution and they’re all true. 

Everyone knows someone who’s drowned. 

We’ve all got a weird cousin who left the family and never came back. No one knows the circumstances of their disappearance but they were always an “odd duck.” 

Community is a foreign concept to many until autumn. People come in droves from the mountain valleys and hollers bearing crafts and baked goods for sale. Apple butter can be smelled from half a mile away and the sound of fiddles fill the air. You will not see these people again until next autumn. 

There are cemeteries everywhere, but the ones unloved are left for a reason. 

Do not step on the graves, but behind them. If you step on them, apologize to avoid haunting. 

Old oak trees = do not fuck with the tree. 

100% Facts, I’m not even joking. 

when walking through a graveyard, avoid any involuntary (OR voluntary) invitations to spirits to follow you home

church on every corner but all of them are increasingly scary at night

tales of old voodoo, people still performing rituals and locals cautioning against disturbing piles of dead animals and other such things so as to avoid being cursed

groups of teens traveling to haunted locations for some fun and never going back, making it even more tempting for others to go out for some fun

someone died at the school. someone always died at the school and now they’re stuck, so the rumors say

creepy ol country fucks following your car with piercing eyes until you’re out of sight

there really is something about autumn that brings a community together. lots of bake sales, always at the church. even if you don’t go to church, you go to the bake sale. people opening pumpkin patches and children playing amongst the rows, crows cawing with laughter– it’s like a scene from a movie tbh

I really do have a weird cousin and nobody knows where tf he is

you’re friends or relatives with at least one practicing witch (or someone who knows one) whether you know it or not. it’s just like oh? you practice the craft? cool cool, my great grandpa did that.

the woods are fucking scary. even when the sun is up, the woods are dense and fucking scary. it’s so easy to get lost. also haunted.

superstitions like woah

There are abandoned deer stands in the woods. Every year more are built, and more are empty. Why?

Be nice to others in the graveyard, or you will trip and scrape yourself up. You’ll never find the root that tripped you.

Theres a quarry. No one has been there but we all know about it.

Theres catfish under the dam, huge ones. You’ve never seen one and neither has anyone you know, but everyone you know knows someone else who has seen them. The scientists confirm that the catfish are real.

Sometimes something in the lake bites you. Its just a fish, everyone says, laughing. It never feels like a fish.

The house off the highway is caved in and covered with ivy, trees and huge ferns growing right up against the walls. All you can see is the porch and the smashed in roof. No one could live there. There are baby toys on the porch. Someone lives there. You kind of want to live there.

The house that burnt down and was never rebuilt, the husk just stands there.

The house with its own gravity. Getting to it only takes 15 minutes or so. Getting away from it takes 30.

Sour ground. No one plants there, no one buries there, no one builds there. Its just a patch of funky smelling dirt. Why are you afraid?

Deer bound across the highway. Their eyes flash at you. Your headlights weren’t close enough to cause that.

Sometimes the statue in town square faces a different direction. No one notices. They all think you’re crazy for bringing it up.

“Don’t talk about it, you’ll invite it!” What is it? You don’t know. No one talks about it.

“There are snakes in the lake,” your mother warns you. She lets you swim anyway. “There are no snakes in the lake,” the local lake worker tell you. Your mother smiles and takes you home. She reassures you there are snakes in the lake. She lets you swim anyway.

The long, seemingly endless stretches of nighttime highway where you ask yourself “Is that the same gas station I passed fifteen minutes ago?” and you begin to worry that perhaps you’ve become stuck in some Sisyphean loop.

Every small town has an elderly widow with some money and a huge sprawling manse who may or may not have murdered her husband? 

Speaking of elderly widows, they always seem to solemnly and religiously declare, “I would never be caught in public without my face on.” Exactly what they mean by their “face” you’re never quite sure.

If you live by the railroad tracks you can always hear the coyotes hollering when the trains pass by at night – but sometimes there’s something else among their sounds.

Absolutely everyone reassures one another that, yes, black panthers DO exist in Mississippi woods and, yes, they DO sound like a woman screaming bloody murder. Everyone knows someone who has seen or heard one. Everyone swears it was the most terrifying thing that ever happened to them. It only ever happens once in their life. Sometimes you wonder when your time will come.

Only one restaurant in town dares to stay open after 7 o’clock. 

The woods are full to the brim with rickety old structures that nobody knows who they originally belonged to or whose land they’re even on. They just…appear.

There’s an age-old tradition that when a young person kills their first deer, they must either smear its blood on their face or drink the blood. No one questions this. Ever. It’s ritual and it is set in stone.

My grandmother used to tell me to always paint the roof of your porch blue so when spirits tried to enter your house, they’d get tricked and think it was the sky – they’d bump their heads and go away. However, if smarter ghosts managed to get inside just talk to them like a houseguest and ask them politely to not frighten or bother you. After all, that famous Southern hospitality goes a long way – even after death.

Small town mayors are like mysterious eldritch figures: When were they elected? Who elected them? Does anyone ever run against them? Has anyone seen the mayor lately? Rumor has it that Icey Ladner saw him the other day at the fried chicken place? Is the mayor even real or are they just an imagined figure looming over the town? 

My hometown had a man who drank Dr. Tischner’s to get drunk and had a pet tick that lived in his ear. Another man and his brother were raised by their deaf mother and they spoke their own language. Almost exactly like Nell except they didn’t live in the woods. One woman used to get leftover biscuits from the local Hardee’s to feed her 19 cats. The cats preferred cinnamon roll dip with their biscuits. A guy that was my mother’s age would crash any car or burn any structure for insurance money – all you had to do was give him a little cash and booze. That’s Faulknerian if you ask me.

During hunting season, it’s completely normal to see two stray dogs in town fighting over a severed deer head.

Vaguely ominous church signs, the most recent in memory being “You’re on God’s most-wanted list.”

You will meet an old man who lives out of his truck. He carves arrowheads from glass and sells his wares at lonely four-way stops twenty miles from anywhere. You buy a necklace from him and he offers you a bag of jerky before you leave. You ask what kind it is and he says it don’t matter, he put enough pepper in it to kill just about anything.

You find the poorly-skinned remains of an unidentifiable animal in a rain-soaked parking lot. The smell of decay brings back a memory from childhood, but you can’t recall it completely.

The way the wind bends through the trees on a certain night and it smells like the tobacco your truck-driving uncle smoked when you were a child. You haven’t seen him in years. You wonder if he is dead. You wonder if this is how he says both hello and goodbye.

morenavbby:

stuftzombie:

ofstarlord:

askclint:

morenavbby:

So in the comics Hawkeye has 80% hearing loss.

The Black Widow is Russian.

Can you imagine when they’re on a mission and something goes wrong; the police are about to arrest them and they fall back on Plan H.

Black Widow, “So remember, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English”

Successful 92.6% of the time.

#the real reason they never have an extraction plan (x)

Okay this has popped up on my dash again and I resisted the urge the first few times but now I can’t.

In college I was friends with a bunch of exchange students and went to a party off campus with them. After a couple hours the owners of the apartment called it a night but my friends wanted to continue to hang out. One of the other exchange students volunteered his place. Only problem was there were 10 of us and our only ride was a honda civic.

So we had a 6 foot tall Swedish dude with two Japanese girls on his lap in the front passenger seat, three Saudi students and me sitting in the back seat with two Thai students sitting on our laps and a Mexican-American woman driving.

I being paranoid asked, “What do we do if we get pulled over?”

The driver tries to look at me, “Do you speak another language or can you fake Swedish?”

“No, but I know ASL.”

She nodded, “Okay so the plan is if we get in trouble, no one speaks English and you’re Deaf.”

That was our plan guys. 

This is the best comment I’ve ever had on this post.