and this is the kind of mood i'm in

things alex does that drives maggie crazy: 

  • the way alex plays with her own hair when she’s focused reading something (work related or not);
  • when alex hugs her and right before she breaks the hug she kisses maggie’s neck;
  • alex’s heavy breathing on maggie’s lips right after a make out session 
  •  when alex caresses maggie’s legs, that are laying on top of alex’s, during some movie they’re watching; 
  • the way alex hugs her from behind and places her head on maggie’s shoulders smiling and kissing her neck; 
  • the way alex looks when walking out of the room only wearing maggie’s shirt from the night before;
  • how she smiles when maggie calls her ‘babe’; 
  • the stupid little smirk she gives maggie after making a joke about their height difference;
  • the sparkle in her eyes after they said their first 'i love you’s’;
  • alex’s smile right after saying “i love you too”

lisa-in-the-sky  asked:

I'M HAVING THE WORST DAY so I would lovvvve to read stucky "it's 2am and I'm drunk and need salt for my fries and I know you're awake so OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR" 😁😁

“You need /what/?” Steve asks the handsome man who has lived across the hall for three weeks.

“Salt,” the man says, holding a soggy McDonald’s bag in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He is tearing up. “I need salt.”

“Why?” Steve asks.

“To exorcise demons,” the man says, then winces. “No, that sounded so much cooler in my head, but I can’t lie to you. I have all of these french fries but none of them are salty. I need salt for them, or else the world may end.” He pauses, then amends, “/My/ world may end.”

Steve gives him a once-over. The guy from across the hall is typically put-together. Steve has only ever seen him in a suit, with his hair slicked back. Now, he’s stubbled, wearing a t-shirt so worn that Steve can practically see his nipples through it, and a leather jacket. He also smells like a brewery.

Honestly? Steve kind of likes him better this way.

“How many fries will you give me?”

The man’s eyes go wide, like this question has caused him actual thought and, frankly, hurt. He groans. “Five!” he shouts. Steve holds back a laugh. “I will give you five french fries in exchange for your salt.”

“Ten,” Steve counters.

The man’s mouth opens, like he genuinely cannot believe that Steve would have the audacity to ask this of him. Steve can barely restrain his laughter. Then he shuts it, straightens up, and nods with firm resolve. “Fine,” he says, “but only because they are getting cold.”

“‘Course,” Steve says, then opens the door wider. “C’mon in.”

He’d feel more self-conscious about the way his apartment looked if he thought that the guy from across the hall would remember this in the morning. As it is right now, he doesn’t feel self-conscious in the least, and is actually sort of excited for his fries.

“So what’s the occasion?” Steve asks. “Why all the fries?”

“My fiancé dumped me for a secret agent.”

Admittedly, that wasn’t what Steve was expecting. “Sit,” he says, pointing to the couch. The guy from across the hall sits. “I’m Bucky,” he says, then adds with wide eyes, “and I’m really sad.”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, “and I’ll get the salt.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, then starts to cry.

— —

The next morning, there’s a knock on the door.

Steve opens it, blurry-eyed and tired. “Hi,” he says, when he sees it’s Bucky. “You feeling okay?”

“No,” Bucky says, “but I brought you a present.”

“What?” Steve asks.

Bucky holds out a cylinder of Morton’s salt with a red bow on top. “I’m sorry for last night,” he says.

Steve can’t help but smile as he takes the salt. “It wasn’t a problem, really. Made my night a lot more interesting.”

Bucky looks down, straightens out his shirt. “You’re really chill,” he says. “And I know I’m a mess, but I appreciate you letting me into your apartment and everything.”

“We could do it again the next time you have a break down,” Steve suggests, then adds, “or whenever, really.”

Bucky looks up. “Yeah?” he asks, looking kind of cute and shy beneath long lashes.

Steve shrugs. “Sure,” he says. Then, “But the fry tax goes up if you’re in a good mood. I’ll need my own order.”

Bucky groans, Steve laughs, and together, they empty that new container of salt.

Bnha fans right now
  • Anime fans: haha wow this sports tournament really lightens up the mood, the competition between Todoroki and Deku is exhilarating, I'm getting hyped!
  • Manga fans: what the fuck, what the actual fuck?? Her fucking body is being deteriorated by her father so her blood cells and skin can be turned into drugs?? What kind of cruel asshole is he and how do i make sure he dies??
3

Hooray, I finally finished! This is based on @russianfeya‘s Neon Pink Motorcycle fic. It’s a soulmate AU where people have a mark that changes color depending on the soulmate’s mood. Yuri no longer has a mark (due to Reasons) and it just hit me in the most recent chapter that when Otabek asks “How are you feeling?” he’s actually…you know, comparing notes. :D
Anyway, if that sounds like something you’d like to read, I highly recommend it!

IN “DEFENSE” OF JASON DEAN:

Before I start, I’m just going to say that the only characters who didn’t do something shitty in both musical or movie would be Betty Finn, Martha Dunnstock, and Dennis. That’s it. If you try to say anyone else didn’t do one shitty thing, yikes.

Alright. So, Jason Dean is a pretty shitty human being, I get it. But, quote from the author’s note in the Heathers musical script that, I personally think sums it up pretty well before I go into a rambling mess.

“Most villains don’t think they’re villains; they rationalize villainous behavior with “it’s what I had to do to fix my problem.” So it is with Heathers. You’ll get best results when your characters avoid excessive or gratuitous cruelty and negativity and instead play up solutions and hope…Dan Waters had an idea to tell a story about a school as cruel as the real world, and the kids who tried to change it.”

I won’t go into J.D.’s history too much because that’s been played out a million times. What all has he grown up with but Bud’s destructive behaviors, both in his occupation and presumably in his home life? Destruction is all J.D. knows, to an extent.

His main point was to make the world better, and though his execution was poorly picked, he MEANT WELL. “Make the world a decent place for people who are decent.” So, @people who seem stuck that he only did what he did for Veronica, no. The big plan was to stop assholes from being assholes by any means necessary and he overstepped it by a long shot.

To say that Jason Dean is completely a monster is to wash out every other aspect about him, just as to praise Heather Chandler (which, I’d like to point out is just was all the students who fake mourn her are doing) is to erase all the wrong she did.

One of the points of this story is to show that teenagers are humans and they make mistakes, and J.D. is no exception. I’m not saying what he did was right, because it was NOT, but the meaning behind it was GOOD. You have to take in every aspect of him as a character to understand him, to do otherwise is to disrespect the story, the writers, etc.

The murders: Make the world better for better people. Good idea, bad way of going about it.

Going to kill Veronica: Concerned about her fessing up, hope to get her back. Super duper Shitty.

Trying to blow up the school: VERY EXTRA INTENSE SHITTY. He’s incredibly unstable at this point.

Blowing himself up: Kind of redemption, he’s stepping back and realizing that, y’know. This didn’t work and he trusts Veronica to fix things her way.

To defend Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, or Ram Sweeney by pulling the “they were only seventeen” card, you have to do the same for Jason Dean.

** THIS GOES FOR BOTH MOVIE AND MUSICAL JASON DEAN LMAO STEP OFF ME WITH THIS ‘MUSICAL JD IS A BETTER PERSON’ NONSENSE.

8

It’s such a struggle to protect your integrity and dignity in this industry … they really want to attack your morality and your beliefs. They need you to give up a certain part of yourself before they’ll initiate you into ‘stardom’ … I’ve always been kind of a hermit. I find my joy in the little things they want to take away from me. Prior to all this, I took pleasure from being the observer. Now I’m the observed.

you can tell what kind of mood i'm in by what music i'm listening to

MCR: leave me the fuck alone
LeATHERMOUTH: leave me the fuck alone
Frank Iero andthe Patience: leave me the fuck alone
Gerard Way: leave me the fuck alone
Fall Out Boy: leave me the fuck alone
Panic! At The Disco: leave me the fuck alone
Bring Me The Horizon: leave me the fuck alone
Any music at all: leave me the fuck alone

a note

So. I was basically not into swearing until my mid-20s, like I didn’t swear at all I didn’t like it I didn’t want it I did not do the thing Sam-I-Am and also using gosh and darn and sugar ironically/unironically is seriously way entertaining? Do recommend.

So, yeah, mad respect for people that don’t like swearing, I get you, I remember how unpleasantly flinch-y just *hearing* the words is when you’ve programmed in your aversion response and dialed it up to max.

That said.

“Fucking” is seriously the best word in all of existence; it is so fulfilling to say in basically every circumstance; it perfectly encapsulates every mood. I like the mouthfeel of it, I like how you can drop the ‘g’, I like how it feels like I am converting my emotions directly to sound. I am having some kind of post-Renaissance love affair with this word; I want to write it epic poetry.

It is so. Fucking. Great.