I’m gonna pray, and sing, and hope; I’m gonna weep, and beg, and moan; I’m gonna fight, and struggle, and doubt. But in the end, I’m gonna be His and He is gonna be mine. For my life is not my own, but the product of a God who breathed life into dust and said “Follow Me, out into the storm.” and if I fall, He is quick to answer, for He is the God who calms the storms, and He is the God who is with us in it all.
—  T.B. LaBerge // Go Now

I think management needs to make a really public Elk + Louis break-up. They keep flying her around, which, well. Every time they put her and Louis together they look so uncomfortable. So if you put them together, pap them, have her uncomfortable, have him uncomfortable, then pap one of them storming out of somewhere they went in together, and have her getting on a place alone, and then get instagram pictures back in London, they can play the card of ‘broken-hearted Louis’, and ‘I’m going to be single for a while because it takes a while to get over a relationship’, at least in the media, That would probably be more believable for his heterosexuality than whatever this nonsense is, and would at least aid in a transition towards the reality that will come out (hehe) soon.

anonymous said:

If you're still taking prompts, would you mind doing a hurt/comfort drabble? :3

Zach pushes open the door, stepping inside the hospital room to the jarring beep of the monitors keeping track of Chris’ heartbeat. His own heart rate quickens, his chest squeezing uncomfortably.  There are tubes everywhere, needles running into his veins, and air being pushed into his nostrils. 

His face is covered in bruises. 

Full recovery, no permanent damage. 

The doctor’s reassurances march through Zach’s brain, and he tries to latch onto them, tries to believe them. But it’s difficult; impossible.

Chris’ face is too pale, and the bandages wrapped around his torso are stark; frightening.  Zach feels queasy, but he does his best to ignore it and crosses the room—slowly, because he’s a fucking coward, and maybe by the time he gets there, it will turn out it’s just a dream. 

Just a dream that Chris stormed out of the house this morning, so furious  he forgot his cell phone.  The sound of the door slamming still echoes in Zach’s ears.  

It was such a stupid fight, pointless—Zach can barely remember what it was about.  And he can’t stop wondering if it’s the reason Chris is in here, if he was too pissed to pay attention to the oncoming car—too preoccupied to swerve out of the way. 

It’s his fault Chris is here, his fault that these bruises mar his skin.  Because he’s stubborn, and couldn’t just apologise when he should have.  

Zach swallows as he sits carefully in the chair beside the bed, wanting to touch—to be reassured that Chris is whole—but not knowing how.  

He looks so small. 

Heat crawls up Zach’s throat, but he forces it back down again, carefully stretches out his fingers to settle them weightlessly on the one patch of Chris’ arm that isn’t bandaged. But as soon as he does, the tight feeling only gets worse.  Letting his shoulders drop, he leans his forehead against the mattress and tries to force himself to breathe as the ping of the monitors continue their steady announcement. 

Fingers settle in his hair, and startled, Zach inhales sharply and lifts his head just an inch.  Chris is blinking at him, eyes bleary but aware. He’s smiling softly. “Hey, baby.” 

Tears fill Zach’s eyes, but he doesn’t bother to brush them away.  ”Hi,” he warbles.  ”Chris…” It comes out more sob than name and Chris’ fingers brush against his ear.  

Carefully, not wanting to jounce him, Zach cups his hand, covers it with the other so it’s sandwiched in between his own.  Chris is still smiling, and even with bruises covering his face, it doesn’t diminish the affection that’s always there.  

Except this morning, when there was only anger and hurt.  Tears well up again, but Zach swallows them down. He holds Chris’ hand as tightly as he dares.  ”I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have let you walk out—”

"It’s not your fault," Chris says quietly, words scratching.  His free hand flaps. "This is not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention—"

Zach wants to point out that’s on him too, but he doesn’t want to argue.  He shushes him gently while he straightens, squeezes his hand again.  ”It doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss his forehead , as gently as he can. “I love you,” he whispers. “So much.” 

Chris’ voice is still scratchy when he mumbles, “Love you too…” 

Zach breathes in, deeply and kisses him again; grateful.  More grateful than he’s ever been in his life and he knows he’ll remember this, the way it felt when he got the call from the hospital—the panic. 

The relief is just as overwhelming. 

my brother got angry
because i yelled at him for climbing into the backseat
and so he stormed out of the car
and slammed the door in frustration
when we tried to move the car
we found we couldn’t
the door wouldn’t close
because when he slammed it so hard
he broke it.

earlier today i got angry
because i was trying to find my dress shoes
in my absolute mess of a room
and my frustration built up at my disorganization
and that i was going to be late for my audition
i felt like i might explode
and so i left my room
wearing a pair of old black flats
and a small red line on my arm
and rushed out the door.

the difference here
is that when my brother is angry
he inflicts damage outwards
and when i am angry
i inflict it on myself
i like to think my way is better
because i dont affect anyone but me.

—  me, 9/21/14, because today i found a harsh difference in how people handle their frustration
Crack

Request: alexis? cani have a tony perry imagine where youre best friends and u have a huge crush on him and youre really afraid of thunder and the dark and tony knows. one day there is a huge storm and tony rushes to your house and the power goes out and you guys cuddle and fluff please

I placed the disc on the tray and pushed the tray into the DVD player. I hopped on the couch and pressed play. The title to American Horror Story: Asylum showed up. I heard rain drops hit the window. I smiled at the sound. Rainy days are best. Just s light shower, maybe some lightning, but never thunder. But with lightning comes thunder.

After about 2 episodes I heard it. The loud clap of thunder that made the whole house shake. I felt the tears run my eyes and the power shut off. That’s when I lost it. I tried to shut the noise out but San Diego ran storms are bad. I heard my front door open and close and seconds later I was pulled into someone’s arms.

"Y/n, it’s okay. I’m here." I hear Tony’s voice. I open my eyes to see Tony, cold and wet, hugging me. "Tony, you’re freezing!" I hop up and pull him to my room. Tony quickly changes and we sit by my fireplace. Tony tightened his grip as he pulled me into him. "This is boring." Tony says to to me. "Eh, yeah. Wanna make out?" I joke. That was always something my friend Amber would say to me as a joke.

"Sure." Tony shrugs. I snap out of my daze when Tony placed his lips on mine. I squeaked in surprise but kissed back. Tony laid me on the ground, hovering over me, moving his mouth against mine. And in that moment I forgot all about the rain and the thunder and no power because I was sitting by the fireplace, making out with my best friend.

"Did you know that I’m in love with you?" Tony asks. "No I didn’t. Did you know that I’m in love with you?" I ask back. "Nope. But I do now. Did you know that you’re now my girlfriend?" He asks. "I do now." I said before kissing him again. The lights flickered before the room went from a orange glow to the natural brown the walls are painted.

"Can we go to bed now?" I asked. Tony nodded and picked me up before carrying me upstairs.

Goldie meets Mikey (closed RP with Mikethesecurityguard)

mikethesecurityguard

Another night Goldie spent locked up backstage during the night. All the fun during these nights had been drained since that guard figured out that it wasn’t such a smart idea to look at his poster. Since then, he’s spent so much time backstage that it was beginning to grow extremely dull on him… He had long since lost track of the nights spent locked up backstage as he looked up at the currently inactive camera. Finally he gave a low growl as he stood up and spoke softly to himself, “I̸’v̛e͘ ̕ha͏d ͡e͜nǫùg̶h̕ o͞f͟ ͏thi̛s̛.҉..̷”

With that he didn’t even bother to try and sneak out of Backstage as he stormed down to the security caring very little for who or what saw him. On his way there he recalled something grabbing his arm and saying, “Goldie, get backstage, you know Fr-” Only for him to pull his arm free and growling in return, “I͟ d́òn̴’t̸ ͏c͟àr̡e̕ wh̵a͏t Fr͏eddy has̡ to͘ ̧s̶a͢y. I̵’͡m tired̕ ͡óf ̕be̴i̢ng͘ ̢l͟ǫc̀ke͝d̶ ҉up̶ ͢b͜ac̴k͝ t͞h͡e̸r̛e. Ìf h̸e̡ ̸does̛n’t͟ ̢li͟ke me ̀b͟e̛in͜g out̡ ̶h͢e̵re, he c͡a͡n kin͘dl̢y go r̨u͝st͘ ove̕r.͏”

He eventually reached the Security Office but instead of trying to storm in like the others did, he only rapped lightly on the glass and spoke in his soft childish voice. However, the voice was distorted and warped making it sound almost demonic in nature, “Mr͏. Sc̵hmi͞d̵t̀… ͡I͜ ͜k͝no̕w͢ y̵o͝u’re ͞i̢n͝ ̵th̕ere̕. I̷ ̀just w̨a͏nt to̢ ͠tal̷k,̡ I͜ ̛can w̛ait̷ ǫut he̢rę ͟and̡ ͜t̕a͝l̴k̶ if ͜y̷ou͡ ͢s̶o͜ ͠desíre. I̸’m t͜i҉r̀éd ̀o͢f͟ ̛t҉ry̷i̷n͟g ͢t̀o̧ g̶ra͝b ́yo̢u͢, bo̢th͘ yo͝u anḑ I know͠ ̷by ńo̢w t̕ha̸t ͠yo͘u̸ a̸l̵w̵a͝y͜s ̀lu͢ck ͘o͝ut̡.”

Tolkien

Tolkien goes up to the counter and orders a Teavana Shaken Iced Blackberry Mojito Tea Lemonade. All of the hipsters inside the shop overhear and immediately go up and order the same thing. Tolkien is enraged and storms out, screaming that everyone misunderstood what he was trying to order.

Entrance (barred), Invincible House, Willis St
Grungy Windowsphone grab suits this one somehow. Just as well - was not getting my camera out in this morning’s storm.

ask-luna-wolfin:

Judging by the smell of the place and the large kitchen she was in, Luna figured she was in a restaurant. A really run down one from the look of it. Shrugging, she stretched out her wings to dry them off, but didn’t notice the pile of pots and pans on a counter and send them clattering to the floor.

Wincing at the crash, she hoped nobody was here and heard that. She did not feel like going back out in that storm.

"God fucking dammit…" Mike muttered, glaring down at the busted camera and being able to hear exactly what was happening. "Chica, I swear to fucking god!" He shouted down the hallway. "Get the fuck out of the kitchen or I will rip those teeth out of your fucking exoskeleton!"

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Cut out most of Halloween outfits plus extra cat tank tops and trying a Yo pattern for them too^^
Also more SD leather stockings.
I was gonna do the catsuits but I pre washed the fabric…put it out to dry…and storm.
I can’t stick it in a dryer so I just have to wait orz.
I am so excited about those outfits! Can’t wait to show you guys!

Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau goes up to the counter and begins describing the perfect cup of coffee that everyone in modern civilization should enjoy. He finds himself unable to pay and storms out angrily. Five minutes later his aunt comes in and pays for it.

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa

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4

Emma, Regina, Red and Belle from OUAT in Disney style

I get excited when I manage to catch the likeness! That’s the easy part - it takes way longer to draw all the princess hair, ho boy.

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