actually its what they were

2

time to dance // panic! at the disco

7

“Magnus I…I love you”

“I love you too”

“I don’t see color” when referring to race is not good. You shouldn’t mush all races and ethnicities together in a big blurry ball. You should acknowledge their differences. Acknowledge that poc face unique problems. Acknowledge white privilege. Acknowledge that the US oppresses poc. “I don’t see color” doesn’t mean you’re not racist, it means you’re ignorant.

how does one draw snow in SAI again…

anyhow, here’s a fanart for @pemprika‘s werewolf!yuu AU! >w< i haven’t done any proper colouring in a while so this was sort of a challenge for me as well TwT

i hope you like this!~ ;v;

Pixiv -  春日P | Art -  サーシャ

※Permission was granted by the artist to upload their works.  

do you ever get hit by some Stuff™ so hard even your art changes

anyways heres wanderwall

  • Friend: you like fucked up shit, you should give Killing Stalking a try!
  • Me: lol ok
  • Me: *whilst reading it* this is so good but like, nobody is gonna have posts about this on Tumblr to add to my blog
  • Tumblr: lol there's a fandom wanna join

🌊🌊🌊 nautical bffs 🌊🌊🌊

SUBWAY SLEEPER, pt. 11

pt. 1  |  pt. 2  |  pt. 3  |  pt. 4  |  pt. 5  |  pt. 6  |  pt. 7  |  pt. 8  |  pt. 9  |  pt. 10


Stiles makes it home.  Mostly.  He has his hand on the knob but then kind of just sinks down to his knees and starfishes face-down over the threshold, half in his apartment and half in the hall.  This feels like as good a place as any to live out the rest of his life, gets a nice draft and everything.

That’s how Scott and Lydia find him when Scott gets home twenty minutes later.

Scott crouches down next to his head and squawks out an alarmed: “Stiles, Jesus, what happened?”

Stiles turns his head so his cheek is pressed flat to the floorboard and he can see Scott’s concerned puppy expression under his fringe.  “I met him.”  It sounds like a death sentence the way he’s said it, all croaky and broken.  In a way, it kind of is so fair play to Stiles.  “I—We talked.  He asked me to come back tomorrow.”  He props himself up with his hands on the floor, halfway to standing but not that invested in it yet.

Scott frowns at him.  “Why do you look like the world just ended then?”  Stiles flops back down unhappily and Scott points a finger in his face.  Literally in his face, cheek depressed under Scott’s fingertip.  He pokes a few more times, says, “Because that all sounds like really good news.”

Stiles shifts his cheek away from Scott, which puts him squashed-nose-down against their floor again.  He blinks into the darkness from his own shadow.  “I’m in love with him,” he mumbles to himself, groans.  “This is so stupid, I know, Lydia, shut up” he points at where she was standing against the doorframe before he returned to his friend the floor and stabs at her with his finger, “—preemptively shut up—but he actually is it.  He’s my person.”  Stiles rolls over like a depressed seal, sits up and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, making starbursts and orange blobs bloom behind the lids.  “I’m… finished.  I just knew it.  He was sitting there, being all—” Stiles lowers his hands, blinks plaintively up at Scott and Lydia, “you know, with the face and the surliness and I thought, I thought, yeah, this face, this surliness, that’s my new forever.”  He drops back down, floor and spine smushed together again.  “Only it isn’t and I am massively, irreparably fucked because he has a girlfriend.  And even if he wasn’t unobtainable, he’s still unobtainable.  In an ‘I have to invent new words because there aren’t ones that so much as touch him’ kind of way.”

Lydia taps the toe of her high heel into his chest and tells him thoughtfully, “You’re depressing, you know that?”  She carefully sips from the same latte cup she had earlier, purses her lips.  “Also, did you say tomorrow?  Your computer science midterm is tomorrow.”

Stiles pops upright, eyes wide. Nooooo.  That can’t—it isn’t—goddamn it!   “Oh shit.  Shit.  Fuck.  Shit.  I can’t meet him tomorrow.”  His midterm’s not until late evening but he hasn’t even started the studying process yet.  Which consists of downing a bunch of his Adderall pills, holing up in the library, jamming all related information that’ll stick into the folds of his brain where it’ll later leak out to be replaced by song lyrics and Friends quotes, sobbing - bitterly, going to the corner gas station for 5am Red Bulls, an hour or so of unscheduled and repeated cat naps while he slaps himself in the face to try to spark consciousness, drooling, desperate crying, panicked reading and, finally, acceptance that he will not pass.  Until he miraculously does (about an 87% success rate on that).

There was no room for Derek in that.  Derek eclipses everything, even the Friends quotes.  Stiles can’t see him and retain anything to do with computers on the same day.

Keep reading

inspire me
do me a favor: kiss me until the sun comes up so i have something to write poems about.

i’m tired of writing about places that don’t exist, homes we built and watched burn. i’m tired of pretending that there were no fires; i’m tired of pretending that it doesn’t hurt.

i’m tired of writing letters that no one reads, i’m tired of giving everything to people who don’t love me.

you see things differently when you don’t have home to go back to. a bed is just a bed, an old piano is just cracked black and white keys, a person is just another body with too much potential to ruin you.

so let me love you now, slowly. i am ready to write about something real, something i can prove; i want to write novels about the way you look at me -and baby i can write until your name is inscribed on walls in foreign cities, until the words you say to me are tattooed on stranger’s hearts - but more than anything i want to be able to say that every word i write about you is true.

just give me some time. give me time to figure out how to come back from years of fiction, years of pretend. give me time and i promise, i’ll learn to hold on to the important things and let go of the rest. i’ll learn to breathe without the memories suffocating me.

and then i’ll write, and write, and write; and we’ll never die. 

4

Charmed meme: optional scenes [2/?]
↳ Cheaper By The Coven (7x03)

actual sweetheart Victor Bennett smiling sweetly to himself at his little girls bickering

 

Ya know, most hate posts read a lot like shit posts. They’re nonsensical and random and I can’t take them seriously so I usually ended up landing somewhere between

and

on the emotional scale.

it’s almost 9pm here aND OHH BOY WAS TODAY A LONG DAY 

5

humans.. whatever