My Project Submission Is Tomm. I Need To Do A Survey.

*adds some yummy treats into the box to make your kidnapping experience gourmet*

[ holding a box ]

get in the box there's cool stuff

AIGHT! *gets in box* Oh DEAR! ITS DARK AND SAD IN HERE! THERE IS NO POSSIBLE WAY I COULD'VE PREVENTED THIS!

perhaps it is because i am an irredeemable bitch

Ah, to be God chilling on a Miami beach.

Birds that have the letter S as their neck. That S stands for Serve

as a brown person, somewhere along the way, we stopped bringing up differences between white and coloured women to highlight white privilege and instead just began to use 'white' as an excuse to single out and attack women for their harmless, personal practices. First we excuse such comments towards white women without recognizing their misogynist quality and then we move to colored women.

@anti-potato when the world finally comes to a halt you shall be the only to remain. and you will look into the dying, engorged sun and know that you will but become another form of a potato: a fried potato

you can pry this potato out of my cold, dead hands

Can you tell me how I can improve?

can people just fucking shut their mouths and chew. is it that difficult. one moment i'm enjoying my food and the next moment i notice that the inside of your mouth looks like a cross between roadkill and rotting seminal fluid. stop

The Mascot

If Natasha were a fangirl, she'd have called Clint's eyes Cerulean-blue orbs.

But she's not a fangirl. She's a spy. So what she sees is fear. And insomnia. And a need for coffee.

So in the coffee goes, black and strong, with a little bit of sugar, and maybe a hint of cinnamon. Into the cup that says, Surely Not Everybody was Kung-fu Fighting?

Well, everybody usually is. But not now.

The cup slides across the table, and Clint's eyes ask, Why?

Because. She can see him wanting to tear his eyes out. She can see him looking for Loki in himself.

Clint takes a nice, long sip, and smiles.

It doesn't reach his eyes anymore.