Peter, Jumping From Roof To Light Pole: Arachnobatics

Peter, jumping from roof to light pole: arachnobatics

Peter, somersaulting off the light pole: spidersaulting

Peter, landing on his face: Peter parkou-

Tony: I am begging you please stop

More Posts from Consultingundergroundrainbow and Others

I wrote a thing

Aaron opens the door to the smell of burnt grilled cheese and the sound of his husband singing in the kitchen. Aaron smiles softly, putting his gun away before making his way to the kitchen quietly. The song the younger man was singing was not in English so Aaron had no idea what it was. There was a half empty bottle of whine on the counter and the stench of the burnt bread was horrible.

“Started without me?” Aaron asks, leaning on the door frame.

Spencer whipped around, his hair falling over his face. The movement made the usually graceful man fall over.

“Aaron!” Spencer’s face lights up.

Aaron’s smile gets bigger but his eyes zero in on the paper in Spencer’s hand.

“What’s that?”  

“Hm? Oh nothing. Do you know where the lighter is?” “Why do you need a lighter-”

Spencer digs in a drawer and triumphantly pulls out an orange lighter.

“Aha!”

“Spencer Hotchner-Reid. Put the lighter down and give me the paper.”

“You aren’t my boss at home!” Spencer argues stubbornly, trying to get the lighter to light, but his fumbling hands weren’t working.

“Spencer-”

Annoyed, Spencer threw the lighter down and dug out a match book. He struck the match and managed to get the corner before Aaron jerked the paper from his hands. He puts out the fire and looks at the paper. It was their marriage license.

“Spencer, honey, why are you trying to burn our marriage license?” Aaron wasn’t sure if he was more confused or amused.

“Good luck returning me without the receipt!” Spencer says, hands on his hips.

Aaron was dumb struck. What brought this on?

“Why would I want to return you?”

“Um...well…” Spencer shrugged. “Good luck keeping me without proof of purchase!”

Aaron tilts his head. What in hell was going on? He was pulled from his wanderings when Spencer snatched the paper and barrels past him. Aaron stumbles back a little then takes off after him.

“Spencer!”

Aaron runs after him. The chase went around the couch and coffee table before Spencer darted down the hall towards the bedroom. Spencer may be lanky but Aaron was completely sober so he had the advantage.He manage to catch Spencer by knocking him onto the bed. The young man fell with an “oof” and a chorus of giggles. Aaron grabbed ahold of the paper.

“Spencer give it to me.”

“You can’t make me!” Spencer grins.

“Spencer-”

“You’re really bossy. You know that?”

“It’s in my job description. Now give me-”

“And grumpy.”

Aaron narrows his eyes.

“I am not grumpy.” He scoffs.

“You totally are. Mr. Grumpy.” Spencer laughs again.

Aaron sighs softly. Drunk Spencer was something else, that’s for sure.

“Please give me the paper?” He tried.

“It’s mine too! You don’t have to hog it.” Spencer hugs the paper to his chest.

“I’m trying to keep you from ruining it!”

“Boo. Party pooper.”

Aaron sighs again and rubs the bridge of his nose. Okay so asking wasn’t going to work. He grips the paper with his thumb and forefinger, trying to pull it free.

“NO!”

‘Spence-”

“It’s mine!”

RRIIIIPPPP

Both men’s eyes go wide.

“You broke it. Oooo you’re in trouble.” Spencer whispers, holding up the other half.

“You-”

“You’re grounded.”

“Excuse me?!?”

“You ripped the paper.”

“You are the one that took it from me.” Aaron protests.

“You took it from me first!”

“Yeah because you were trying to burn it.”

“You’re the one that left it in my reach.”

“You-I-” Aaron just shakes his head. “You are impossible.”

“You married me.” Spencer smiled.

“Yeah. I have proof of purchase.” Aaron chuckles, kissing him softly. “We’ll have to go get a new one tomorrow you know.”

“Later. ‘M sleepy.”


Tags

Reblog if you're a fanfic writer and you wanna know what your followers' favorite story of yours is ❤

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

I'm Sebastian

I got in a fight with my mom so I started throwing plastic forks at her yelling "I AM ONE HELL OF A BUTLER!!!" Update:I'm banned from plastic forks. Worth it.

DECEMBER 17, 2018 hey you tumblr! what the fuck. This blog is me. you do not have the right to cancel a person I DONT WANNA GO

120 ways you know you're a color gaurd

120 ways to tell your in guard • You spin anything you can get your hands on. • You spin pens. • You spin brooms/mops/etc. • You spin broken parts of chairs. • You go to attention when someone claps at you in the hallways. • Five hours of practice is a blessing. • There are all sorts of marks on the ceiling of your room from your equipment. • Your light fixture in your room is permanently broken. • You've replaced more light bulbs in your room than you can count. • Every song you hear, you write guard work to. • All your favorite songs have this one part that would be "perfect for a rifle feature." • Your hands are permanently black and blue. • You have had more injuries than you'd like to rememberer that you can remember. • You dance down the hallways at school. • You dance around your house. • All the work your instructor writes, you've done before...they start recycling your work from other shows. • You can't watch someone else spin next to you without spinning yourself. • You protect your weapons like they are your children. • You name your equipment. • You name your drill spots. • As soon as you step onto a football field, you put your head up and smile at the bleachers, whether or not anyone is there. • You can't name all the shows you've done. • You can't remember the work from the last show you did. • The phrase, "free time" has lost all meaning to you. • The band room is your second home. • You leave a pillow and blanket in the guard room, just in case. • You have a closet full of old guard uniforms, whether you wore them or not. • You have a drawer full of guard tee-shirts. • Flannel pants are you favorite piece of clothing. • All your guard gloves have holes in the palms. • You don't go one day without spinning. • Doing only 200 drop spins at practice is a blessing. • You've run more laps than the track team. • You've done more push-ups than the football team. • You practice more than the cheerleaders (and still get no credit for it) • You're proud to be called a band fag. • You've slept in the band room. • You've gotten undressed in the band room. • Your principal has seen you without pants on. • The entire band has seen you without pants on. • You'd be at practice, even if you have pneumonia. And you'd be smiling. • When people on TV march, you cringe if they're out of step. • You've been called a lesbian more than times than you can count. • You have 7 different kinds of ace bandages, and you have 8 sizes of each kind. • You know where everything is in the first aid kit. • You have your own set of keys to the band room. • You know that "one more time" never means one more time. • After practice, you hang out in the band room to chat with your fellow guard members. • You've spent more than 80 hours with the same people in one sitting. • You've seen 3 in the morning. • When you get home at 1 a.m., you are ecstatic. • The waiters at the local diner know you by name. • You've never been in the diner with less than 8 people. • Your personal motto is "Guard is Life." • After high school, you march in college, drum corps, winter guard...etc. • You know how to get any kind of stain out of your uniform. • Skin tight spandex doesn't faze you anymore. • You go out in public wearing practice clothes, and wonder why people look at you funny. • On your lunch break, when you go to get food, you don't bother to put on your shoes. And again, you wonder why people look at you funny. • You've performed at 8 pep rallies, although you've never been a part of one. • At the pep rallies, you and your friends are the only ones to cheer for the fencing team. • You sing songs you've performed to every day of your life. • Ballroom dancing amazes you. • Anyone who can throw a piece of wood with a strap 100 feet in the air and catch it becomes your idol. • When 98% of the guys you know are gay. • You've dated/had a crush on a drummer. • You've dated/had a crush on a trumpet player. • You have so many inside jokes with members of your guard, that you laugh at almost anything that anyone says, because you have a joke about it. (And yet again, you wonder why people look at you funny.) • You and your friends repeat the same phrases over and over. • When one member gets sick, you all get sick. • You all get your period at the same time. • You remember jokes from years before you actually joined guard. • You refuse to graduate. • You could make one of these lists with little to no effort. • You have a permanent sock tan. • Your hair is 8 different colors. • Your nails don't come past the ends of your fingers. • Your toenails have been painted for as long as you can remember. (Because you're barefoot so much.) • A half-hour lunch break is considered long. • You start finishing sentences for fellow guard members. • You're not a hooker, but your knees are so bruised, they look like you could be. • You and the band members get into fights over who's colder on retreat...and YOU win. • When you go out to diners in your uniform after a show, you wonder why the waiter looks at you funny. • When you go out to diners with 30 pounds of glitter in your hair, you wonder why there's glitter in your food. • You own at least 1 Broadway soundtrack, and could probably write a show to one or more songs on that soundtrack. • When you learn to yell back at the football team. • When you hear so much about people from drum corps, other color guards, etc., you feel like you know them, but have never actually held a conversation with them. • You date a member of another marching band. • or go to competitions for the sole purpose of finding a date from another marching band. • You get disappointed that all the guys you want to date from other marching bands are gay/have a girlfriend from yet another marching band. • When you scream at the gym teachers "Color guard is a sport!!!", and they agree with you, thereby letting you sit out from running the mile. • Your parents lock up all the brooms/pool cues/umbrellas/etc. • You can do your hair and make-up anywhere. • You can change into your uniform anywhere. • You find yourself designing flags/uniforms/drill in your classes. • You laugh like everyone else on your guard. • You use two hands to tell your left from your right. • You know how many people can be crammed into a mini van. • You spend more time in the band hall than in your house • Your guard has developed its own language. • You went to every school football game but never paid for one. • You can arm wrestle anyone and win. • When you get teary-eyed when you have to put your rifle down so you can eat dinner. • When you spend all your free time looking for guard-related web sites. • When people ask about bruises you didn't even notice you had • When you look for guards in commercials and movies (in Never Been Kissed, they show a guard. When her car is in the football field!) • When you insist that your crutches will not affect your marching ability, and what do you mean I can't spin with broken arms?! • When you catch yourself switching feet to get back on-step with the background music in the mall • When you can never be 3 fashionably late, cauze you show up for everything at least 15 minutes early • When vending machine food becomes gourmet. • When you choose a college based on the guard programs nearby • When you use guard tape to fix everything • When five more minutes, Dad, turns into a midnight practice • When you have seen the same WGI or DCI tape a thousand times and still enjoy it • When you love the black stain from new gloves • You take over guys bathroom when the girls bathroom is full • When you love the black stain from new gloves • You ride around in a school bus more than in your car • You say the pledge of allegiance to YOUR flag • While your non-guard friend sleep with teddy bears and other various stuffed animals, you sleep with your flag, rifle, and/or saber (and see nothing unhealthy about it, thank you)

Santa Is On Strike Due To Global Warming.  All Presents This Year Will Be Delivered By Sasha The Christmas

Santa is on strike due to global warming.  All presents this year will be delivered by Sasha the Christmas Tiger.  Milk and cookies may not be sufficient.

WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR

WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR STUPIDLY SEXY ADORABLE FACE UGH

WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR
WHY ARE YOU SO GODS DAMNED ADORABLE?!? MAKING QUESTION WETHER I'M REALLY A LESBIAN OR NOT, WITH YOUR

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consultingundergroundrainbow - I don't really use this blog Any more
I don't really use this blog Any more

my active blog: @video-killed-the-radio-host

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