((getting to all of those asks now))

GUESS WHAT!! YA BITCH IS BACK!!!!

Urgh!!! 

I’M OFFICIALLY BACK!!

Sorry I had to leave for like a month…

I may hate them, but exams come first…

But I’m finally done with all my damn exams!! 

I think I did decently in them all…hopefully…

But now that they’re done, I have nothing to do till September so I’m back on tumblr!!

Uh…no new fics for just a few days…

I need to go through my tags for the past month and just favourite those fics so I can read them later…

And I also wanna get watching season 12, cos I know it’s finished and I can now finally watch it!! 

But yea!! I’m back!! Imma answer the few asks I’ve gotten in my inbox since I’ve been gone and then everything will be normal once again…

But yea!!

I’M BACK!!!

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

anonymous asked:

It was maybe too Machiavellian of Sana to send Isak something on FB so he would have to log in. Specially knowing she had this idea of invading his privacy before asking him to study together, when she read all those msgs on her phone. Before you wouldn't question her character but now it starts getting iffy.

If you’ve noticed anon, unless a character seriously crosses a line (like Sara, William, and Nico), I don’t spend my time morally condemning characters. Drama is supposed to be about the messiness of real people. Drama is not a medieval morality play in which you watch perfect role models to reform the mores and manners of the masses. People make mistakes – that’s the only way that people grow.

Sana really hurt Isak by doing that, out of her own hurt – and hurting other people because of your own hurt is a very human thing to do – and I fully expect her to learn from it by the end of the season. Like I expect the other characters to learn from their mistakes.

FINALLY!! SCHOOL IS OUT!!

A few updates about my life under the cut, if you’re interested

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Now this may seem as an odd way to put it all, but i think that the best way to get back to something is just not having it in your life, in the way that you need to find ways that make you less observant of it. Cuz' if you find those things they'll be able to keep you satisfied or at least entertained if you understand what i mean? But i'm just a random guy in front of a screen so what do i know xD

I sorta get what you mean, but i have a headache atm so i might get it properly later uwu

I have this headcanon that the Lions communicate to their pilots in different ways.

The lions have their essence, and that drives their personality. It also drives the bond with their pilot. They need to be compatible. Which is why it’s not that a lion and a different pilot cannot communicate, it’s just that it comes across as very jarring when you’re used to a certain kind of communication.

The Blue Lion, friendlest of all, makes suggestions.

“Why not try the ice cannon?”
“Want to go faster? Hit the booster!”
“Hey, now might be a good time for escaping.”

The Green Lion, eternally curious, asks questions.

“What do you think is on that planet?”
“Is that an invisibility cloak? Are you going to install it in my hardware?”
“When are we leaving? How much fuel does Voltron have stored?”

The terse, quick and temperamental Red Lion makes demands.

“Activate my gun.”
“Shoot those sentinels.”
“Get inside faster. I’m getting us out of here.”

The patient, steady Yellow Lion makes statements. Beautful, strange, obvious statements.

“That’s an asteroid.”
“We’re in space.”
“Fuel is almost gone.”

The Black Lion, leader of the rest, makes acknowledgements.

“You did well with that use of the shield.”
“Thank you for saving Lance, he was in trouble.”
“Everything will be all right, Shiro.”

(for @yoituuri and @starryfeathers. I accidentally deleted this whole thing once so hopefully it doesn’t happen again/ it’s not rushed. I hope you enjoy you two, and anybody else who reads this!)

I made a post about my favorite boy Victor not too long ago, and I mentioned a shot in passing that I really loved, but because it wasn’t the focus of the post, I didn’t go into it. I would like to now. Here it is:

This is the first glimpse of Victor we get within canon. Well, beyond the opening sequence with Yuuri watching Victor skate as they grow up but I think we can all agree that was outside of canon and can be discarded here.

Anyway.

It’s a damn good first glimpse. As you’ve probably already noticed, Victor’s eyes are covered. Deliberately. Dude fuckin does a twirl and the camera is framed in such a way that we don’t get to see his eyes until he looks up for the cameras. That’s an interesting touch, for several reasons. 

First, when a character’s eyes are not visible, it implies something is hidden within them. A trait, motivation, true emotions, etc etc. 

Secondly, the fact that we can’t see Victor’s eyes until he turns to the cameras with that fake-ass media smile. In this scene, we’re being treated as the public. Victor is immediately hiding from us and the rest of the world. You know, something he does all the goddamn time.

Victor is scarily good at masking. For those who don’t know what I mean, masking is the act of hiding one’s true personality, desires, and/or emotions to conform to society. I mask due to past trauma. Victor masks to meet public expectation. 

You’ve probably guessed already that masking is incredibly unhealthy–it’s repression, after all. If it gets bad enough, you’ll stop knowing where masking ends and you begin. Sometimes it takes me months to figure out how I feel about something because I need to sort through so many layers of masking and anxiety and doubt. It’s really difficult sometimes. 

We see tons of lovely examples of Victor masking throughout the show. Here are a few off the top of my head: 

(^absolutely terrified vitya trying to be smooth)

(^living up to his press image)

(^so incredibly upset on so many levels but he doesn’t dare show it)

(^pissed enough that yuuri picks up on it. and then acts dishonestly w/ yuuri by trying to come off as pleasant)

(i love that yuuri is comfortable enough by this point to call victor out on his bs. if you’re gonna get mad, get mad) 

(you can actually see Victor’s hand shake if you watch the scene. boy is so pissed and he’s holding it in)

etc etc. 

Victor is actually incredibly reserved in all the emotions he shows, especially if it’s anger or sadness. For most of the series, he only lets himself go in front of Yuuri or alone. Victor hides from himself, he hides from Yuuri, and it helps no one in the end. 

The beach sequence, actually, is important to this idea too. As we know, Victor asks Yuuri what he wants them to be. 

And then he lists off all these options before essentially asking to go out with him, but in a way that says he’s too scared to do it outright.

Now, this is partially to gauge Yuuri’s feelings towards him, but it’s also highly revealing of Victor’s self-worth. He’s willing to put on any mask, any persona to be with Yuuri. Yuuri, of course, doesn’t want this at all. 

🚨 HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP ALERT!🚨

And looking at Victor’s reaction (guarded surprise)

This may be the first time Victor has been asked to just be himself. 

So if Victor was a world champion at 16

(boy is 15-16 in that article)

He must have been skating for a while beforehand. We can probably approximate by saying he started competitions around the time Yuri did, which I estimate to be about 12-13. However, Victor does say this 

And if we’re to believe him, 27-20=7, and therefore something happened at the age of 7 to force Victor into backing away from others and working himself to the bone. Uhm, wow. I don’t know how accurate it is to say that, but regardless, he’s been in the public eye for a long fuckin time. 

Victor has spent this long fuckin time building an image: elegance, confidence, charming yet untouchable. The perfect playboy, in a way. This is the person he presents to the public. I think he’s been masking like this for so long he forgot that this isn’t who he is–Victor has the ability to be all those things, but it’s not who he is. Victor is excitable, bubbly, caring, vulnerable, depressed, lonely, hardworking…Yuuri, by asking Victor to be himself, released a metaphorical floodgate on Victor’s emotions. He’s broken that carefully crafted persona. 

Victor is now publicly goofy and affectionate

(i love how he hides his face a little here…how cute and shy while showing off that he’s yuuri’s)

And can drop his composure comfortably 

(also vitya always wears gloves to competitions until they get the rings and then victor keeps the gloves off completely :v) 

I love that Victor’s relationship with Yuuri has allowed him to find himself again, and peel away those masks to live and breathe and love as he was always meant to. 

i say “i’m seeing a therapist” and he takes a step backwards. why he wants to know. what happened. what made me like this, basically. what was the final step that pushed me safely into the side of scary people like them.

there’s a lot i think about. like how my illnesses effect me outside of the actual symptoms. like beyond the weight there’s a second river to drown in.

i mean we don’t talk about having to stare at employment papers where they ask you to self-identify your problems. that little bead of sweat that forms when you worry - what if i don’t tell them and i need help? what if i tell them and they think i’m a risk factor? what if they won’t give me the job?

we don’t talk about the way some people act when they find out. the ones who are rude about it are one thing. but then there’s those people you thought were your friends who act like you just told them you’re infectious. who become weird and distant and suspicious like a switch flipped. like if they get to close to you, you’ll give it to them.

we learn to be okay with things we overhear on the bus but we never get used to it coming out of the mouth of the people we love. we carry this secret with us like a rotted fruit, clutching it to our bodies. we’re ashamed of our scars in front of our boss. we don’t talk about our panic attacks during lunch breaks. when the cop pulls you over “i’m disassociating” isn’t an excuse we can open the page on. when you watch people make these ranting posts about how real friends always text back, how if someone loves you, they’ll find the time to spend. success stories make other people cry with inspiration while some part of your brain is saying you can’t do that, you’re not like them. things are uglier at the bottom. you can’t explain why you can’t just make friends. you can’t write because you’re depressed but when you’re depressed you write best. you can’t eat today and no don’t ask why please. nevermind taking the train. never mind trying to be happy. never mind reading books and watching movies and wondering where exactly are people like you in hero stories. i watch a video where a man tells me that being depressed is just a mindset. when i wear all black someone remarks i look particularly emo today. it’s 2017 does anyone say emo anymore, i ask her, and she laughs, “you just look like one of those fake-depressed girls.” okay.  

i don’t tell him my therapist is actually why things don’t happen anymore. why i’m getting a handle on it. my tongue feels swollen. i feel embarrassed talking about it. in the highest twist of irony, i think of how many people know my problems anonymously on the internet. i almost spill out all my troubles onto him. instead i tell him it’s just a precaution. that i think everyone should really see a therapist, they’re brain mechanics and we all need a tune-up now and then. he relaxes.

okay. okay. i’m sorry i’m one of them.

anonymous asked:

do you mind making some more lance hcs?? I've read all of the other ones like 3 times.

anon that’s a lot of headcanons to be reading lmao.. i don’t shut up about my Blue Boy. This is half headcanon/half character analysis lmao.

WHOM UP FOR SOME LANGST.

  • Lance has a boatload of insecurities, but I don’t think he has depression. (Time to project) What happens is that his ADHD causes him to hyperfocus on his mistakes to the point that he gets trapped in his Hell Brain, stuck in this bad cycle where he constantly berates himself and inflates his personal fears. But he’s normally able to manage because he has a huge support network- his bigass family.
  • There are definitely little kids in Lance’s family, and being around kids who love you is so nice?? Whenever Lance starts feeling weighed down, he plays with his baby siblings/cousins/neighbors and lets their enthusiasm feed his until everyone is bouncing off the walls and being ushered outside. I’ve probably said this before, but Lance was Born to be an uncle.
  • Anyway, Lance is used to being surrounded by people he has a deep connection with who truly care about him and love him. So at the Garrison, when he was far away from his family, he struggled a little bit but ultimately supplemented his human contact quota by befriending pretty much everyone. If he knows that people like him, then he can like himself.
  • Which is why in space he’s kind of… deflating. Because he’s surrounded by people who have rebuffed him before, and it’s hard not to internalize that, ya feel?? Like:
    • Pidge refused to do anything with Hunk & Lance when they were all at the Garrison, which is fair bc she was in Deep Cover, but Lance obvi didn’t know this so he was honestly kind of hurt? 
      • All his attempts at friendship and bonding were coldly shut down the moment they left his mouth. Lance spent many a sleepless nights wondering what was wrong with him, what aspect of his personality made Pidge hate him on sight. 
      • It… sucks to know that no matter what you do, someone will remain distant, especially if you’re used to making friends. Lance is a fixer, but how can you fix something if you only know part of the problem?
    • Keith straight up forgot who Lance was. And you know that Lance had really built-up their relationship in his mind. Even if it’s because Lance claims they ‘hated’ each other, it’s clear that Lance considered Keith special in that he was a goal to beat/overcome, and he clearly assumed Keith viewed him the same way. So when they reunited and Keith didn’t recognize him… Ouch
      • It hurts to realize that you’ve put way more into a relationship than someone else, but it especially sucks if they never even noticed you in the first place. 
      • Also, lots of resentment issues thanks to the Garrison constantly comparing Lance to Keith. Bastards.
    • Shiro is Lance’s hero, but Shiro is such… a jackass to Lance gsdhkjgd I’m so mad about how Shiro has been treating Lance as the show progresses. 
      • Shiro kind of… assumes that they’re equals, which normally is fine, but Shiro physically pushes/shoves Lance around, ignores his opinions, and tells him to knock it off whenever Lance acts like himself. 
      • And between close friends, that behavior can be ‘acceptable’, but again: Lance looks up to Shiro. So this treatment.. I can only see Lance negatively internalizing it. How good of a teammate can you be if your hero only ever treats you as a joke?
    • And Allura… it’s clear she’s really not interested in Lance’s flirting. Which would be fine, but it’s kind of been their entire relationship so far (mainly because of Bad Writing), so when Allura rejects Lance’s bad pick-up line she kind of rejects any connection at all, including friendship.
      • Like, you can argue that this is Lance’s fault for constantly hitting on her, but Allura’s natural response to Lance is either Carefully Maintained Neutrality or clear exasperation.
      • That’s not exactly… a warm welcome, so I could see Lance slowly just starting to avoid her. Because it SUCKS to enter someone’s line of view and immediately see their smile drop a fraction. It sucks to know that someone immediately has their guard up the moment you try to talk to them. It sucks to feel like you’ve sabotaged any chances before you even knew you had them. It sucks to realize that you, and your personality, made someone feel this way, and that you are the problem. From there, you learn it’s better to just… stay away, and stay quiet.
  • TLDR Lance is really only comfortable comfortable around Hunk and Coran. And the Space Mice, provided they don’t rat him out to Allura.
  • Lance internalizes a lot of stuff lmao. He reacts by overcompensating; when he feels hurt or out of his depth, he amps up his ego, he goes all out with the flirting, he uses bravado to cover up any cracks in his armor. 
    • (If you keep making them laugh, then they’re too busy to laugh at you.)
  • Lance is his own worst enemy. If someone yells at him and calls him a failure, he can get righteously angry and ignore what they said or crack a joke to ease the tension. He can deflect. It’s when he’s alone, when he has time to think, that he begins to place more pressure on himself.
    • You know how people can become paralyzed by their perfectionism? They’re so worried about getting the end product perfect that they can’t even start the process. That’s Lance, to some extent.
  • He prunes his own self/image. If he can’t get something right, he cuts it out of his personality. He doesn’t cling to it. He gets rid of anything he thinks makes him a failure, anything that shows that he’s useless. All those branches, traits, imperfections- they’re snipped away. And what he’s left with, he clings to. This is his absolute. This is his foundation. These are the tenants he builds himself up from. He’s the ladies man. He’s the sharpshooter. He’s the funny one. This is what makes Lance McClain worthwhile.
  • So when that foundation gets rocked… it’s bad. And normally, he can spring back, because he has his support network. But right now he’s billions of light years away from home, stuck with a team that only seems to like him 70% of the time.

Be authentic in the way you live life, talk to those who hurt you. Engage in honesty and love, open up and ask those in your life why they are distant. Life is short, it gets muddied by lies and fear.

Be courageous enough to reach out to others, seek forgiveness and redemption in your community. We have been given an opportunity each day to love those around us, all it takes is one step.

Healing starts with communication, communication comes with humility, and humility only comes when we are willing to lay down our lives for others.

Love right now, not tomorrow or the next day, love in this moment and watch it become something beautiful.

—  T.B. LaBerge // Go Now

“Everyone lies: ‘Oh, getting old is terrible.’ What the fuck are they talking about? It’s so great! Let me count the ways. It takes until you’re 40 for you to have enough money to buy anything—like a bunch of weird chairs, that thing for my cat, the stuff for the web comic. You can’t afford a comic made of tiny things when you’re in your 20s. You need to get to a point in your life when you’ve made connections in your community, and you can do fun artistic projects, and you can buy a couple of movie chairs and have them sent to your apartment. That’s what it means to be 40. You just do whatever the hell you want. It’s awesome!

People say, ‘Oh, being in your 20s is the best.’ Is it? Because I found it very anxiety producing, and sad, and kind of lonely. I feel none of those things now. Life is awesome. And then they say, ‘Oh, you know, you’ll be wrinkled and ugly.’ Wrinkled? Maybe. Ugly? Are you kidding me? I’ve never looked this good. Look at my hair. I just had it done. Ask me how much that cost. I couldn’t spend that much on my hair even in my thirties. Look at this thing. It’s a shirt from a museum. I’m going to get all my clothes from museums. I couldn’t get any clothes from museums when I was in my 20s. Also, I know so much more now. I’m like a genius—just from life. I have all sorts of knowledge.

I feel like we’ve all been lied to by society—that youth is where it’s at. Not really. Youth kind of sucks. It’s thrilling, but it’s also terrifying. I’m not scared of anything now.

Oh, that’s the other thing. It’s the biggest thing. When I turned 30, a friend of mine wrote to me and said, ‘Tell me what you’ve learned. Give me your wisdom at 30.’ I remember reading that and thinking, ‘I have no idea.’ But I thought about it for a couple of days and I wrote back to him. ‘You now? I do have an answer for this: I feel more confident now. And I care a little bit less about what other people think.’ Now, at this age, I don’t give a fuck what people think.

This is how this translates to me. I’ve never attempted to be popular by any definition, which is good, because I certainly haven’t been. But it always killed me to disappoint people. I feel that less now.

You can’t hang anything over my head emotionally because I just don’t care. I don’t feel that I have to impress anyone anymore. It’s awesome!”

Cambridge, MA

Go for the thing you actually want to do.  

Many students, teachers and family told me studying 2D animation in school from 2009- 2013 was foolish because there were already no more 2D animation jobs, and that I should study 3D animation. But I hate rigorous, technical work, I honestly hate computers all together. I’m not built for that kind of thinking, and I’m not interested in it. I was and am far more interested in drawing and film making than mastering technology. I’m almost four years out of school now, and have now had far better career opportunities than many of my 3D classmates because I am passionate about what I do.

My senior year of college,  I narrowed the parts of the animation process that I am most interested in to writing and storyboarding. But, I was afraid to pursue those jobs because I knew from interning in studios that they were highly coveted positions. So, I went for cleanup and animation jobs, hoping to work my way up. I even got lucky and landed character design work down the line, though I’m not particularly interested in design. It was only when i started taking storyboarding classes, making storyboards in my spare time, pursuing storyboarding jobs, calling myself a storyboard artist, that those opportunities started to become available to me. And it turns out, I’m far better at storyboarding than I was at those other positions, because it’s the thing I enjoy the most. This is not to say “don’t take that cleanup job that pays the bills.” Take that job, and do online storyboarding classes at night, and read storyboarding blogs on your lunch break, make storyboard samples and comics in your free time on nights and weekends… Then, ask for storyboard tests, and test and test and test. It might take a while, no worries. Go ahead and put ‘storyboard artist’ on your website in the meantime instead of ‘illustrator’ or 'cleanup’ or whatever your more accurate fallback job is.

Don’t work in a studio in your fallback job and wait for someone to give you the opportunity. You might think because you are hard working at your compromise job, the management will reward loyalty with the job you politely asked for, or maybe were even too polite to actually ask for. They won’t give you that job. They probably won’t even help you get that job. So test within that studio if they’ll let you, and apply other places in the meantime while you keep paying the bills with that job.

There’s no excuse to me. Even people who want to direct can direct their own animated shorts in their spare time and build up a commercial directing portfolio from those shorts. You can do the same thing making crappy live action films with borrowed equipment in your spare time. It’s costly and time consuming, but you can throw your musician friend a couple bucks for the score, get a compositor buddy to throw effects on your short in exchange for some animation she needs, and buy a bunch of friends pizza to help you clean up scenes or hold lights or whatever. I’ve done it before.

I used storyboards as an example above, (read blogs during lunch, etc.) but apply that same tenacity towards whatever you want to do: vis dev, character design, comic penciler, stop motion fabricator, 3D modeler, whatever. I want to be a writer now, that’s the next hurdle for me. I’ve written two pilots and I’m taking it seriously, going to writing events, talking to people, refining my work and writing new material, and generally conducting myself as a writer. I have no idea how long, or even if this will take, but I’m pursuing it like it’s real because I enjoy writing, so I think I’d be good at it. Please don’t be one of these people that talks about all the stuff you’re “working on”, when you are really just thinking about working on that stuff. Too many of those in the world, please just go and get things done. “There are those who write, and those who talk about writing.” An adage I like. Apply it to whatever you like “There are those who design characters, and those who talk about designing characters…”

So please, everyone, go for what you want, don’t stop short now. You’ll be a lot better at your job when you’re doing the thing you like.

Because I know some of y’all will need hope right now:

The Writer’s Room opened for Season 5 on April 4th, 2017:

On April 5th, 2017, Aaron Ginsburg liked this tweet:

Who are Desmond and Penny you might ask? Why, they are these people:

and yes, that is Henry Ian Cusick. This is a still from the show Lost and I’m going to give you a brief run down of their relationship:

Before he became stranded on the island, Penny and Desmond were in a long-term relationship. However, due to Desmond’s fear of commitment, they stopped seeing each other. After Desmond went missing in 2001, Penny refused to give up hope and started to search for him. She winds up interacting with Charlie Pace and realizes that there were survivors of the plane crash. 

She and Desmond manage to get in touch with one another via phone, although the signal is horrible. She uses that phone call though, to track his location to an area near the Island. She picks up the lifeboat that Desmond and several others are aboard. After the rescue, Penny and Desmond get married and have a son!  

I’m now going to ask you to watch these videos of the phone call and and their physical reunion:

All in all they were separated for 8 years. Now….let’s have some fun imagining Blarke in this situation. 

Bellamy and Clarke not able to communicate with each other for years? One or both of them thinking that the other is dead?

Clarke calling Bellamy and getting no response?

And then one day….she manages to get through, and the line is static-y (like above) and it’s hard to hear, but they manage to talk for a bit and it’s just long enough for those on the Ark to locate her position and finally land.  

Special shout out to @ginalou16 for this!!!

aquiver | 01 (m)

aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

pairing: min yoongi x reader
genre/warnings: mature themes, talk of masturbation, smut, language
words: 10,110
summary: Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…
note. inspired by the novella ‘The Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the character’s past occupation haha

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 |

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The heart beat

It happened again. The same painful disaster. It was happening everyday, so annoying, so unendurable. And to think, everything was so peaceful and nice for Bendy and Boris only a little while ago. Their lives were perfect, they didn’t have anything to worry about and have nothing to fear. Until Bendy got that illness. Everything changed for them both. Now instead of having fun and living their lives they had to put their effort into finding the lost items for the machine in order to save Bendy from all of this pain, and at the same time dealing with those two guys who were out to end them. This all has became an unbearable daily routine for both of them. Especially for Boris. Bendy wasn’t really worried for himself as much as for his bro, who didn’t have anyone else other than him. The older was trying not to pay too much attention to his condition and stay positive to not make his bro too anxious, and Boris also was trying not to think about it too much. At first it wasn’t too hard, but as this keeps happening more and more, Boris just couldn’t ignore it anymore. He was being really stressed and scared, even though he was trying hard not to show it off and not think about it. But this time that was exactly what he was doing, thinking about it. He was sitting on the grass, gazing at his beloved brother who was sleeping peacefully, lying his head on his shirt that he took off a moment ago when the pain attack kicked in again. This time, it seems to be worse than usual.

It was already late evening, but they were both still peppy and were still walking. Suddenly, Bendy curved with a painful groan, falling down while gripping to his stomach. Boris instantly ran towards his brother to help him. Bendy was shaking like crazy, he could barely make any sounds other than just squeaking, felt like something was blocking his breath. At one point, he just fell to his brother’s arms with no sound or movements. Boris started to freak out as he realized that Bendy was no longer trying to breathe, he wasn’t breathing at all! His panic level was increasing as the older one was still unconscious, he tried to pat him softly on the cheek but he was still not moving. Boris could no longer control himself, he started screaming and crying loudly as he was shaking his brother.
“BENDY!! BENDY, NO! COME ON! WAKE UP!! STAY WITH ME PLEASE!!!!” desperately pleaded Boris. Fortunately, the luck was on their side again. After few minutes, Bendy opened his eyes, taking a deep breath and started to cough constantly. He pulled his hand to his throat as a  stream of black liquid flowed down from his mouth to the ground. After that, he took a relived breath and lied on Boris’s lap. The pain was gone.

Bendy seems to be much better now. But not Boris, he was still terrified after what just happened, for a moment there, he actually thought that everything was over…and seems like Bendy was getting ready for that. For the last few days, Bendy was pushing his young brother much harder to be independent and self-capable. And that was showing the fact that he was ready to give up and die, or at least that’s what Boris thought. And  he couldn’t stand that thought. The thought of losing the one person he loved, the thought of never get to see his smile, hear his voice, never get to hug him, listen to his teaching or just goof around with him. And what will he do without Bendy? Where will he go? He could still try to find and fix the machine on his own, but what is the purpose if he already lost his beloved one? All of those thoughts were causing him a headache. His eyes started to tear up.
No… he is strong enough… he’s not gonna leave me… I know he won’t” silently sobed the young wolf while wiping his eyes.
He looked at his brother, who was still sleeping like a little baby. Boris slowly crawled next to him, trying to be as quite as possible to not wake him up. He seems so pacified, like he never got any deadly diseases. Boris moved his sight to Bendy’s exposed chest that was lowering and rising because of his breathing. He moved his head closer and placed his ear on it.

“Ba bump…” a quiet and pleasant sound is what he heard. The sound of a beating heart, his brother’s  heart.  The sound of life that he valued more than anyone else’s.  It was such a satisfying sound, just listening to that slow beat made Boris so relaxed. All the heavy thoughts were gone, all the worries been drawn away, all that he was thinking now is that his bro was still there, he was still alive. This fact was giving him hope that at one day, all of this pain and suffering would be over, and they will go back to those wonderful times when they could live peacefully with reasons to be nervous or scared.

Boris got carried away so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t realized how he lied down completely on his bro’s chest. He was brought back to reality when someone’s hand gently caressed his forehead.

“Boris, could you get up? You’re too heavy…” Bendy’s soft voice broke the silence. Boris instantly got up nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry…” he said with a soft smile.

“What were you even doing?” the other asked.

“Nothing… I just wanted a hug!” childly answered Boris.

“*Yawn* you’ll get your hug tomorrow… I’m very tired…” wearily said Bendy as he flipped over to another side. “You should go to sleep too, it’s really late…”

“Okay” Boris lied down on his back next to Bendy, gazing upon the night sky. He felt much more confident about completing their quest. Only positive thoughts from now on, whining won’t get them nowhere. Other people deserves to be saved too, no one has to go through all this. Being with those who you love is the biggest treasure, and Boris was determined to keep his treasure. Forever.
“Good night Bendy! I love you ~” said Boris as he closed his eyes and start falling asleep.
“Mhmn… love you too, bro…” Mumbled Bendy through his sleep.
Tomorrow is a new day, new challenges to deal with, and new progress to make.

____________________________

Hello there! i’ll be frank, it’s not my first time writing fics, but it is my first sibmission to you!

sorry if there any mistakes i haven’t notice, English is not my first language (plus i’m pretty sure i’ve cheked everything) (⇀‸↼‶)

i fell in love with your AU and it gave me an idea for this “masterpeaceofshit” XP

i also wanna use this oppertunity to tell you dat you are my very favorite artist! your ideas and drawing are stunning and they always inspire me! thank you so much for sharing your work with us Rouge, u da best! (= ̄ω ̄=)

fic by katethepeach

art by Rouge

During an interview, Jack is asked what’s the most important thing to him and Jack immediately says, ‘pie’, which means Bitty but he can’t say Bitty because he hasn’t come out to the public yet. So saying ‘pie’ is a way for those who are aware of their relationship to understand what he really meant. And they all get it because by now, everyone who knows Bitty associates him with ‘pie’ or ‘baked goods’. 

But now everyone else just thinks that Jack has a really intense love for pie, like he would die for pie. 

Massages

4.2k of smut, I’m not even sorry

‘OUCH! Stop, st- STOP IT PANSY! Argh, fuck, I think I broke a rib.’ Draco sat down on his bed, a painful expression on his face which was paler than usual.

‘You’re an ungrateful bastard’ Pansy flopped beside him, pouting ‘the whole Slytherin house knows I’m the best on giving massage’

‘Well, I better look for someone from other houses then’ Draco made another pained expression as he got up. ‘I can’t, I can’t walk. Argh, fuck!’ He laid down slowly. Pansy only stared at him from the door, the look on her a face a mixture of pity and remorse.

‘I’ll get someone. Even though you were a little bitch just now.’ She glared at him before leaving.

It’d started three days before then. He was getting ready on Wednesday morning to practice quidditch. Everything was fine when he bent down to tie his shoelaces, but the second he straightened his back an acute pain hit him on his hips. It’d gotten worse the past two days to the point now he couldn’t even sit properly without feeling it.

He laid there, thinking maybe he would have to look for Madam Pomfrey after all. But fuck, those potions always messed up with his stomach, he’d do anything to avoid taking them even if it meant asking for someone he didn’t know to give him a massage. Pansy had told him she knew what she was doing but at the end it’d only worsened it.

***

'It’s for a friend, you see. He’s in a lot of pain at the moment and I was hoping you knew someone good on giving massages’ Pansy flopped down on a chair at the eighth year common room.

'Well,’ Hermione started, closing her arithmancy book. 'I do, but… who exactly is this friend of yours?’ She gave Pansy a look that could be translated as 'Are-we-talking-about-who-i-think-we-are-talking-about?’

'Draco’ Pansy sighed, predicting the other’s answer. 'But… I swear he’ll behave. And you owe me this one, right? After I brought you those French hair products’ Pansy smirked.

'You really are a Slytherin’ Hermione sighed 'but they were actually amazing. I’ll help you with this one but I can’t guarantee it’ll go well.’

Pansy gave her a quick hug, grinning. 'Who is it then?’

'Harry’ Hermione murmured to herself.

Pansy gasped and then laughed until tears were streaming down her face.

'Holy. Shit. Are you sure he’ll want to do it?’

Hermione gave her a little smile.

'He owes he a favor’

Pansy’s giggling was catching the attention of everyone around them.

'Who’s the Slytherin one now?’

***

'Tell me how amazing I am’

The girl bursted inside his dorm an hour after she’d left to find Draco in the same position.

'You found someone?’ He got up, regretting the decision immediately. 'Ah, shit! Are they outside? Please tell me they’re outside’

'They’ll be here in ten’ Pany sat by his side and poked his cheek 'go on, tell me how amazing I am’

'You’re amazing’ he grunted. When he looked at his friend, though, she wasn’t paying attention, busy with a little pink bag Draco hadn’t noticed she’d brought before. 'What-’

'Oils. For the massage’ she smirked and Draco felt blood going to his cheeks.

'There’s no need for that’

'They have properties. They could help’ she started to take the little flasks with different colors out of the bag and pile them on Draco’s bed.

A light knock on the door told them Pansy’s friends had arrived.

'C'mon in!’

'I just don’t understand why… No. No fucking way.’

'Harry, please, Pansy said-’

'What the actual fuck, Pansy!’ Draco started talking at the same time Hermione tried to stop Harry from leaving the room. 'This is… ah, shit shit- ARGH!’ Draco’s attempt to get up brought back the striking pain on his lower back and he felt his knees failing. The next second he was tumbling to the ground with a loud thud. Tears came uninvited to his eyes and he bit his lips as hard as he could to stop from screaming.

Draco didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to help him get up. A firm hand went on the underside of his thigh as the other grabbed his shoulder firmly, pushing him to his feet just long enough for him to get to his bed. When he collapsed on his bed, flushed cheeks and tears still streaming down his face, everything he could think about was that maybe his time had come. Die would be better than suffer so much humiliation in front of Saint Potter, who was panting by his side.

Harry stared down at the boy in front of him, Malfoy’s face twisted in an ugly expression. It was like he was trying to sneer at Harry but the pain was too much even for that. Harry sighed and turned to see he was left alone in the room with an incapacitated Malfoy. Well, shit, that was just great. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? Peace, it was all he was asking for after everything. But, oh no, he had to have asked Hermione for help with his potions homework the week before, and now he owed her this. Harry wouldn’t have denied giving a massage to any of his friends if they’d asked him. He’d helped Hermione, Ginny and even Luna in the past. But Malfoy? Give Malfoy a massage, after everything, almost sounded funny.

Except it wasn’t because Harry had a hero complex and he knew Malfoy wouldn’t ask for such a thing if he wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t even Malfoy who came looking for Hermione, it was Pansy, which meant he probably was in a lot of pain. He couldn’t walk, from what Harry could see.

Small flasks caught his attention, all of them pilled up beside Malfoy.

'What’s this?’ He grabbed one and put it against the light. The liquid inside was thicker than water.

'Oils. Pansy brought them. She said they could help. Not like you need to know this anyway since you won’t use them.’ Malfoy spoke through gritted teeth, facing the wall opposite to where Harry stood. So he was expecting him to leave, that cocky bastard.

'Take off your shirt then’ Harry levitated all the tiny flasks to the ground and picked up one randomly. When he opened it the smell of cinnamon filled the room. Malfoy stared at him like he’d gone insane.

'What do you think you’re doing?’ he asked slowly.

'Well, maybe a massage since that’s what Hermione asked me to do and I can’t have a fucking moment of peace in this castle. And since you seem to be unable to even walk I advise you shut the fuck up and take off your shirt so I can see what’s wrong and finish in time for dinner’ Harry looked up to find Malfoy gaping at him.

'Do you even-’

'Yes, I do know how to do it, you prick. And I’m using this one, so take off your shirt’ Harry signaled to the open flask in his hands as he sat down on the far end of the bed.

He didn’t quite know how the oil would help since he’d never used them when he gave massages before. He liked the smell of it, that was all.

Malfoy struggled to sit down. He undid his tie, opened every button and started to take it off, really slowly trying not to move too much, wincing everytime he did. He folded his shirt and put it on the chair beside the bed. Harry couldn’t help staring at the huge scars on his chest he knew he was responsible for. Guilt settled on his stomach as he tore his gaze away.

'Lay down on your stomach’ Harry got up and sat beside Malfoy’s body as close as he could without brushing their thighs. It was ridiculous, he knew, since he would be touching him quite soon. Malfoy did as he was told and stilled, realising what that meant.

And what it meant was that, like that, he was completely vulnerable. He turned his face to Potter’s side and searched the other boy’s face for any sign of danger but all he could see was a frown as Harry dripped the oil in his fingers. Draco felt his cheeks heat up for some reason he didn’t understand.

'I’m going to start’ Potter’s voice was low when he spoke. Before Draco could say anything Potter’s hands were on his shoulders, placed at the same distance from the centre of his back. They were warmer than Draco’s skin, soft and sticky with oil. His breath got stuck on his throat  when Potter squeezed and, even though his lower back still hurt, Draco felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He exaled, relaxing into the matress.

Harry maintained the rhythm for a while, squeazing and releasing Malfoy’s shoulders, his thumbs pressing small circles on the other’s neck as he did. Harry, then, started to let his hands go lower, maintaining the pressing of his thumbs as he did until he reached the high of Malfoy’s kidneys. He stopped there to smear his hands with more oil.

'Where did the pain start?’ Harry found his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

'Hm… my hips’ Malfoy sounded sleepy when he spoke. He was so relaxed Harry had to hold back a giggle. He must really be great at giving massage if it meant even Malfoy was enjoying it.

He stopped shortly.

'Your hips?’ Shit, he wasn’t expecting that. 'Er… okay. I’ll- I’ll need you to lower you trousers a bit.  

'What?’ Draco opened his eyes, snapping out of his daze. What did Potter just say?

'So I can reach your hips. I can’t do much with them in the way’ he said slowly, almost like he expected Draco to start yelling at him.

'So you want me to take off my pants?’ Draco couldn’s believe what the fuck was going on.

'No! Just- Just open it, okay? I can do the rest…’ Draco stopped for a second. He reached for his buttons, opened them and laid down again. He turned his face the other way since he was pretty sure he was blushing. Shit, Potter better know what he was doing.

Harry exhaled gradually. He most definitely didn’t know what he was doing. Well, he did, but he shouldn         ’t be doing this. He should’ve stopped, told Malfoy to go look for Pomfrey and got out of there.

Instead he placed his hands on Malfoy’s lower back again. He rubbed his thumbs in circles there, with less pressure this time, and started to press lower as he did. He reached his trousers but since the buttons were open it hang loose on Malfoy’s hips. Harry let his thumbs go under the waist and Malfoy froze.

Harry exhaled again. 'This will probably hurt but if it doesn’t work I’ll know what I have to do, okay?’ He pulled his trousers lower until he could see the other’s boxers. They were black, just like his trousers. Harry could see the fine blond hair that covered his lower back was up.

'Just don’t break my bones’ His tone was sarcastic.

Harry had his weigh on one knee which was pressed against the matress, both hands on Malfoy’s hips.

'Inhale’ Harry instructed. 'Hold’ Malfoy did as he was told.

'Exhale’ he pushed all his weight on his hands as quickly as he could. Malfoy screamed and Harry cursed. They were panting, Malfoy still too shocked to say anything.

'It won’t work, not like this’ Harry got off the bed to take off his shoes. When he looked back Malfoy was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, fear mixed with something else. Was it anticipation?

'This will work’ Harry got on the bed again and before malfoy could say anything he passed one of his legs over the blond’s body, straddling him. Harry sat on Malfoys thighs, trapping him so he couldn’t turn around.

'WHAT THE FUCK, POTTER?’ Malfoy tried to free himself but Harry pinned both Draco’s hands above his head in a strong grip.

'I’m telling you this will work! Stop fidgeting and shut up!’

But focusing on Potter’s words was hard since all he could sense was the warmth and pressure on his thighs, so close to his ass. He’d never felt anything like that before, something disturbingly intimate and his whole body was reacting as if it was. He closed his eyes, cursing inside his head as blood rushed into his cock. Fuck fuck fuck, this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be…

'Inhale’ Potter’s words resonated closer to his ear than before. He shivered, inhaling as deep as he could. 'You need to relax’ Potter’s voice came out hoarse, his thumbs still tracing circles on his hips. Draco shuddered but felt his shoulders lose tension again.

'Inhale’, Harry repetead. 'Hold’ And Draco did.

Potter shifted on his thighs and Draco almost forgot what he was supposed to do.

'Exhale’ he did it again, placing all his weight in his hands, his thighs pressing hard against Malfoy’s as he did. A loud crack made Harry smile and Draco scream.

And then Malfoy let out a loud moan and Harry lost his train of thought.

Suddenly all the blood in his brain was going down, making his pants too tight. His ears felt like they were full of water when he heard Malfoy hum against the pillow.

'It worked’ Draco breathed, lifting his hips a bit to check if the pain was still there. The motion caused his ass to rub against something hard.

Draco gasped.

Harry moaned low.

Draco’s hips rose up again, higher, rubbing harder against what he knew was Potter and fuck, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. And then Potter pressed down, literally pressed against Draco’s ass so he could feel it, the whole length even through the fabric. Potter was hard, really hard and Draco felt his own cock twitching at that.

Draco moaned, the sound ringing in Harry’s ears. He should go, he knew he should, but Malfoy was panting, and lifting that roundy ass for him, to rub against him, and Harry saw his face when he turned his head to the side. His cheeks were flushed and lips parted.

Harry pressed again, leaning forward until his mouth was just above Malfoy’s left ear.

'Do you want me to go?’ He needed to be sure, to be certain he wasn’t imagining all that.

Malfoy gasped, his eyes tightly shut. 'No’ He lifted his arm, grabbing Harry’s thigh and craving his nails on it. Harry bit his earlobe, went for his jaw and started sucking there.

Draco’s cock was throbbing beneath him, so hard he was sure he might faint any second.

The next minute the pressure against his ass was gone making a small cry escape his lips. Fuck fuck, Potter must have come to his senses before he did…

His pants were suddenly yanked down to his knees, his boxers with them. The sudden movement ccreating friction against his cock, now leaking on the matress. Draco was sure he couldn’t blush any harder but it didn’t stop him from moaning when hands grabbed his arse cheeks. How come he didn’t know he could get pleasure from there? Potter’s hands were everywhere, squeezing, pinching, scratching the soft skin.

Harry opened his cheeks, exposing his hole and run his thumb there tentatively.

'Ah- ha fuck…’ Draco buried his face in the pillow again. This wasn’t right, this was so fucking wrong, what was he doing moaning for…

'I wanna eat you up’ Harry didn’t mean to let the words escape his lips. His gaze was fixed on Malfoy’s pink hole and when it contracted under his thumb the thought of licking there, fucking him with his tongue, assaulted his mind immediately. Malfoy shivered under him.

'Wh-What are you saying?’ the tips of his ears were even redder from where Harry could see them.

Harry got off of Malfoy’s thighs and pushed them apart. He grabbed Malfoy’s hips again, pulling his ass up a bit. He could see the blond’s cock was hard and swollen, rubbing against the matress. Harry got on his elbows, squeezed Draco’s arse again and bit the already marked skin.

Draco gasped, his head jerking to the side so he could get a glimpse of Potter between his legs. Potter was sucking him at the spot he’d bitten before, his hands massaging the place where his thighs met his ass. He run his fingers there, grabbed his arse cheeks and pulled them apart. Draco drew a sharp breath.

He could hear Harry fidgeting with his own pants followed by the sound of clothes hitting the ground. Draco waved his hand towards the door, a click signalling it was now locked. He couldn’t even begin to think what would happen if anyone decided to come in.

Draco felt something wet, warm and firm press against his hole.

'Fuck fuck, you can’t- ah… ahhhh P-Potter this is…’ he gave a choking moan when Harry began to lick him relentlessly, his own moans reverberating in Draco’s skin.

Harry licked, savoured until his tongue got past the tight ring, and then he was fucking Draco, fucking him with wet and hot thrusts of his tongue. Draco kept pushing  back, gasping as he did, completely out of control.

Harry had never done that before but the sencond he laid eyes on Draco’s ass, naked before him all he could thing about was opening him, filing him up to get all those delicious sounds out of him.

Draco moaned, and moaned, louder each time. The words that came out of his mouth were incoherent, interrupted by sharp intakes of air.

'Yes… This- fuck Potter… I-deep-deeper’

Deeper, he wanted it deeper. Harry grasped the tiny flask he’d left on the ground and smeared his fingers with the oil again. He retreated his tongue earning a whimper from Malfoy that turned into a sob the second Harry’s middle finger replaced his tongue, getting in smoothly. Draco gasped, shivering uncontrollably and Harry just stayed there, mouth hanging open at the view. His finger disappeared and reappeared, Malfoy sucking him in while rutting against the matress. Harry curled his finger experimentally getting Malfoy to jolt and scream, throwing his head back. Harry caressed his thigh marked with purple bruises, another finger going inside his hole. The blond hissed but didn’t tell Harry to stop so he thrusted them to the base.

Draco’s brain was shutting down. The lewd sounds filling the room paired with the smell of cinnamon overstimulating his whole body. He wanted more heat, more pressure, more skin against his but the words kept getting lost in his throat everytime he tried to voice his needs. And Potter, fuck, he knew what to do with his hands, with his mouth. That fucking tongue worked like magic inside him. Potter was moving his fingers inside him in a way Draco didn’t even know was possible, scissoring them, thrusting them to the base.

The fingers were suddenly gone. Draco inhalled sharply but before he could complain Potter grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. He laid there on his back, legs spread open, cock dripping with pre come. And Harry stared him down, took in every inch of his light skin shamelessly. Draco felt exposed even though they were both naked. His hole twitched, stretched and leaking all the oil Potter had rubbed inside him and Potter stared. He fucking stared, jerking himself as he did.

Draco grabbed his own cock and began to do the same. It was unfair, having to do it all by himself after all Potter did, that bastard. The gesture caught the Golden Boys’s attention, though, and Draco smirked.

'i want,’ Harry bent down, their chests flushed against each other, his mouth whispering in Draco’s lips. 'I want to put it in you’ he sucked Draco’s lower lip. Holy fuck, he was on the edge already. Potter moved his lips to Draco’s ear and shifted, the head of his cock now poking Draco’s entrance. Draco felt it tingle as Potter cast a protective spell. 'I want to fill you up’ he whispered against his ear.

'Fuck, fuck…’

'Has anyone ever done that?’ he nuzzled Draco’s temple, his glans rubbing against his hole. 'I’m going to take you’ Harry hold his cock steadily as he pushed an inch, stretching Malfoy for him. The blond was panting on his cheek, small sobs inbetween gasps for air.

Harry’s ability to dirty talk, even as his own mind wasn’t working properly was something he didn’t know he could do. He was blushing, panting, but the possessivness he felt made him talk. Malfoy was his, all his, he just never thought that that anger, the rush of adrenaline he felt every time they were close could be hiding something else. He always thought Malfoy was his to take down, to fight against. But he also was his to consume, to bury himself into.

Harry thrust slowly, taking in the tightness, the heat engulfing him. Malfoy was fisting his cock under him, eyes tightly shut and mouth hanging open. Harry stopped Malfoy’s hand with his own and, with a tight grip, trapped them both above his head. Malfoy opened his eyes, his grey irisis thin rings around blown pupils.

'Touch my cock’ he whispered against Harry’s lips, more a command than a pleading. Harry smashed their mouths together instead, refusing to let go of his grip. Draco shivered under him, opened his mouth, let Potter invade his mouth with that tongue. Fuck, that tongue that’d fucked him just minutes ago. And Harry kissed him, his cock deep buried to the hilt inside him. He was full, so fucking full he felt his whole body collapse when Potter started to pull back.

He thrust again, the friction, the pressure, sending shocks of pleasure to Draco’s cock, up his spine, everywhere. Through half opened eyes Draco saw Harry gazing at him, his glasses gone, his lips red, parted as puffs of air escaped them. Harry thrust hard when he realized Draco was staring back. His complex changed immediately.

'I-yes fuck ahh-ah…’ Draco’s whole body was trembling, his ass thrusting back against Harry’s cock, trying to get him to go deeper.

Harry released Draco’s hands, grabbed his thighs instead and lifted them, shoving in until his fingers were numb from the tight grip. He’d leave marks there, crimson lines, and the thought made him moan. Harry bent down again, his mouth reaching Draco’s neck. He sucked him there while he fucked hard and fast. Draco fisted his cock with one hand while the other scratched Harry’s back repeatedly.

His moans were louder now, loud enough Harry was sure people could hear them from outside the dorm. Draco didn’t seem to care, or even realize he was making those sounds.

The next moment Draco was contracting around him, trembling violently and coming on their stomachs. The pressure was enough to send Harry over the edge, his thrusts erratic as he came deep inside Draco.

Draco moaned again when he felt something hot filling him up, Harry’s last thrusts too much to handle.

Harry flopped beside him, his limbs drained of strengh.

'Merlin’ he whispered to himself.

'Yeah’

'That was…’

'Yeah’

They didn’t speak for the next couple of minutes. When Harry got up to leave, though, Draco reached for his arm.

'You could… we- uh… we could…’

Harry kissed him softly, almost clumsily before speaking 'Yeah, I- I’d like that’

***

Draco sat down that evening with Pansy and Blaise at their common room to warm themselves in front of the fire. He couldn’t help wincing a bit when he did.

'What’s wrong? I thought Potter had fixed you back’

Draco felt his face flushing immediately.

'He did! I just…’

'I’m sure he did. Just remember to go somewhere else with thicker walls next time you call him to fix your back’ Blaise didn’t even care to lift his eyes from the book he had in hands.

His cheeks were in flames and the expression on Pansy’s face wasn’t helping.

‘You owe me two favours now!’ She smirked, leaning against the couch like she’d won a bet.

‘What- Why two?’ Draco shifted and winced again at the new burning ache.

‘Because,’ She stuck up a finger like she needed to count all the favours Draco owned her. ‘I found someone to fix your back’ She lifted another finger. ‘And,’

Right that second Potter walked through the portrait followed by Granger and Weasley. He spotted Draco immediately and, well wasn’t that great, strode towards him, leaving Weasley with a confused look and Granger with a knowing one. He glanced at Pancy and saw her waving at the Gryffindor girl. Fucking amazing.

‘Hey,’ Potter stood awkwardly there before sitting on the arm of Draco’s chair. Draco knew his cheeks were already flushed but when Potter bent down and whispered in his ear he was sure he probably looked like a tomatoe. ‘Fancy a game of Wizard’s chess later?’

Pansy was shaking trying to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

‘Your dorm?’ Draco found himself playing with the hem of Potter’s hoody. The bastard blushed at Draco’s words, but nodded with a smile on his face.

He’d barely turned his back when Draco heard Pansy’s voice loud and clear.

‘And, I got you a cute boyfriend. Two favours!’

***

Ao3 

So, I hadn’t really intended to address the matter but I’m receiving a lot of asks and pm’s about it + it’s in the press here so i might as well just get it out of the way real quickly. 
Two metastases (new tumors created by the main one) have been found in my dad’s liver and it’s shitty but that’s just the way it is. I’d rather not discuss it and while i really am super appreciative of all your support and kindness I would rather not receive asks or stuff about it. I’m finishing up final exams and shit and i just need to focus on the things that i actually have control over (like my grades). 
so thank you all and i hope this answered your questions. 

@White folks, Imma need yall to get your own shit

Like literally, Black people make some shit up and yall are on it faster than flies on candy. We make up a word? Half yall white folks done flooded the tags with it. We do a dance and yall just NEED to fuckin participate RIGHT TF NOW. Rihanna does a hairstyle and there’s 72 white girls on twitter claiming they’re doing it better.

Like damn, yall are those kids who ask to play with other people’s shit before they even took the toy all the way out the box. Let the people who made the shit at least enjoy it for a second before yall put your noses in it.

Because let’s be clear, when yall start doing shit, it stops being cool. Black people only have to keep making new shit CONSTANTLY because yall ruin everything tbh. Like as soon as one of us does ANY-FUCKIN-THING yall are just waiting to pounce. And then we gotta watch our culture get half-assed and then thrown away by people who literally did nothing.

Maybe if yall spent less time vulturing the rest of us, yall could make up cool words and dances and outfits too.

(And lowkey, some of yall non-Black PoC are toeing the line)