back to hating the east coast

This is the “free speech bus.” Run by a gaggle of homophobic religious groups, it kicked off a trip on the East Coast this week to try to convince the world that transgender people aren’t real. 

Guess how long it took before it got vandalized: one day. Whoops.

It’s almost as if when you embark on a road trip specifically to harm and dehumanize other people, those people and their friends will push back! Some great observations from Twitter:

Nope. No sympathy for transphobes on wheels. 

three thousand and eighty-seven
for @requiemofkings​ for the @aftgexchange​ valentine’s exchange

Neil calls Andrew when he and Matt get to their apartment even though it’s five-thirty in the morning on the east coast. He forces himself not to say what they’re both thinking—that the distance is too long—and instead just tells Andrew, “We just got back. Going to bed now.”

“Check Twitter,” Andrew says, voice dragging at the edges, heavy with sleep.

“Why, did some journalist say we hate each other?”

Long distance is hard. So is picking out a Valentine’s Day present for your boyfriend who lives on the opposite coast and has even less interest in Valentine’s Day than he does in everything else.

femalemegane  asked:

Hello there:) I'm hoping that I could make it in time (and it's not open, no worries, I'll going to ask in other time:3) and I'm not sure if this request is already done, but... ¿Can I have some little drabbles for Soldier 76 (my bae<3), McCree, Hanzo and Reaper (separately, of course) while supporting theirs wives in labor?:') BTW, nice writing tho:3 - Greetings from México:)

(Aw, thank you! Greetings from the east coast of the US!)

Soldier: 76

“I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

The words streamed out of your lips like a prayer as another, stronger contraction hitting you in the back and side, your hand squeezing Jack’s until it turned white. You pressed your head back into the pillow of your hospital bed, toes curling and relaxing as you waited for this one to end. Jack’s other hand still continued to brush through your hair with his fingers, murmuring soft words of encouragement to you.

“You’re doing great beautiful”, he breathed softly, maintaining his composure as you crushed his hand. You had to admit, a part of you needed his calming presence here, to pull you out of your mind and the anxiousness that kept bubbling up. The other part of you, however, wanted to punch him for knocking you up and trying to act like he understood what you were going through. “Breathe, babe. You have to breathe.”

Your eyes peeped open, glaring at your husband bitterly, only receiving that trademarked relaxed smile of his. Opting to listen, rather than curse him out you took in several shuddering breaths, body going lax as your contractions started to subside.

“Good job”, Jack murmured, pressing several affectionate kisses to your temples, his blue eyes filled with love and affection. “You look so beautiful.”

Despite yourself and the fact that you had been married for years and were literally about to give birth to his child, your face burned in a blush. His words poured over you like sweet ambrosia, coaxing the stress and agitation from your mind. A small smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him.

“Well then”, you started softly, staring him down playfully, his smile growing a bit more. “Your beautiful wife would like some ice chips please.”

“Of course.”


“I can’t do this, Jess. I can’t.”

You were slightly bent over, standing with your arms wrapped tight around Jesse’s waist with your face pressed into his shirt. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would appreciate the fact that he smelt so good; sweet yet smokey like his cigars without all the smoke. You shifted one foot to the next, your contraction waning off as tears rolled down your cheeks.

You were absolutely exhausted, eight hours of active labor and increasing contractions stealing every ounce of energy you had. The only reason you were standing is because it was the only thing that didn’t make you feel like your spine was trying to escape your body. Jesse’s hand smoothed down your back, moving in slow, methodical circles to ease a bit of the pain you were feeling away.

“Darlin”, he drawled softly, his voice soft and sweet, a quiet comfort to accompany his soothing massage.  “I know you’re hurtin’ something awful, sweetpea. If I could, I’d’ve taken all that pain away…but I know you got this, sugar. ‘Nother one starting? Ah breathe in darlin, like we practiced…there ya go.”

You whined, shaking your head against his shirt as another contraction started, your hold on him tightening up again. He had been acutely observant the entire time, picking up on each of your contractions as they began and walking you through them until they ended, something you were beyond thankful for. He talked you through your breathing, keeping his voice even and soft, your cowboy’s gentleness helping to ease some of that stress away.


“Make them go away…please.”

Your face was pressed into Hanzo’s chest, bouncing half-heartedly on the exercise ball you had requested. Hanzo sat higher than you, his arms loosely wrapped around your middle, as your hands clung to his shirt. He had his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hands moving in small circles on your sides, your head tilting from side to side as you breathed heavily through the pain. This is one of the moments you absolutely adored the fact that he was a quieter man, his strong, stoic presence grounding you without the need for words. Sadly, the nurses had not understood your need for silence.

You could hear the sound of nurses moving about the room, shifting things and preparing for the actual delivery. They weren’t speaking loudly, but they were loud enough for it to grate at your thinning nerves. Your hands curled and uncurled around the fabric of his shirt, a low whine hissing from your lips before you tilted your face up to look at your husband. You could see in his dark eyes that he was nervous, but he wouldn’t allow it to show on his face, especially when he knew you were relying on him.

“Beloved”, he said softly, brushing his hand over your face, your exhausted eyes shutting for a pregnant moment before opening up again. “If that is what you want, I will do that for you….but might it be best to wait until after the delivery?”

You groaned, a part of you hating his logical side but understanding why he said it. Rocking back and forth on the ball you sighed again before nodding your head to indicate that he was right. Hanzo placed another soft kiss on the top of your head, humming softly against your hair.



“Gabriel Alejandro Reyes for the love of god, stop phasing!”

You were kneeling on the padded floor, your arms wrapped tight around the large red birthing ball, trying not to bite your well-intentioned husband head off. Gabriel’s hand were massaging at your lower back and ass to coax away the pain there, at least when his touch was solid. He’d massage in solid circles, pressing the heel of his palm hard into the aching muscle until his touch would suddenly phase to nothing. It would throw you off, just as you began to go into a slight trance, it would stop.

You knew he couldn’t help it, his phasing while mostly controllable, reacted to his emotions. He was excited but worried, fiercely protective and anxious. He absolutely hated hospitals, they brought back nothing but negative memories and the fact his wife and arriving child had to be here…you sighed, squeezing the ball again and pressing your face into the rubber. Another contraction began to start, your breath hitching for a moment before you released a harsh exhale.

“Lo siento mi reina”, Gabriel apologized honestly, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades and then another to the back of your neck.

You murred low in your throat at his cool kiss on your heated skin, one of your hands flying back and grabbing at his shirt, pulling so he fell against your back. Gabriel chuckled lowly, adjusting himself so you and the ball were between his legs, his chest pressed carefully into your back. You sighed in satisfaction as the cool of his body bled into your overly heated skin, turning into Gabe’s touch as his hand stroked your cheek.

“‘Sokay”, you murmured softly, content as Gabriel’s cool hand stroked your damp forehead and cheek tenderly. “Just don’t move…”

Swindle (Jeonghan)

genre: fluff, humor

word count: 1,136

summary:  “two people meet on a street corner in new york city” – a prompt from a friend

note: what is this? i don’t know. needed to write something to get back into the swing of things ;-;

edit: here’s a companion piece with joshua – sacrament

You had lived in the city for a year now, and you still weren’t used to how the millions of people crowded on such a small island off the East Coast could walk about as if they were the only ones who mattered. 

It wasn’t that you hated city folk – in fact, many of the people who you stopped for directions when you first moved here were even happy to escort you to your destination. You figured that New Yorkers weren’t inherently rude or mean; unlike the stereotypes, you found them to be a rather passive bunch. They would pretend to be asleep or absorbed in their phones when a panhandler recited sob stories on the subway, or hurry past loud arguments spotlighted by neon signs in front of packed bars. New Yorkers had to be asked directly for them to act, and growing up in a small town in the South, it was a far cry from the etiquette that you were used to.

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I Want Crazy (Part 7)

Summary: You try to adjust back to real life, but are surprised by a visit from Jensen a couple weeks later

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2,300

Warnings: none…? a little sad at the beginning, sorry

A/N: AAAAAND PART 7 IS HERE! I hope you guys like it… I think you will though ;) Also that is not my gif, thank you google. Imagine him cracking a smile at the end, it was the best I could do.

This is a series!! Catch up here!

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dear everyone who reads Unbound (my TG au):

how upset would y’all be if I skipped ahead a few months to a point where Neil & Andrew are like…. dancing around a relationship? I personally needed that first chapter for my own like…. “figuring this shit out” bit, and in hind sight I shouldn’t have posted it (should have just kept it to myself) because the real story isn’t going to start happening until they’re back on the east coast

I can always add in a note before the next chapter on like…. what went down between chapter 1 and chapter 2

idk like i’m so torn because I HATE skipping huge chunks of time, but I’ve also backed my sorry ass into a corner because the really story is not here, in California, it’s in the east, after Neil and Andrew are starting to really figure each other out
Moonlight Serenade Chapter 13, a phantom of the opera fanfic | FanFiction

I hate to say it, but I won’t have a tidbit today. I sucked at planning on such things and I forgot to find one. It’s really early in the morning and we have to get on a plane, so I won’t be able to hunt one down. Keep a look out for one later (possibly) when I get back to the East Coast. Thanks you all for reading and reviewing, as always. Everyone in this fandom has been really nice to me and I appreciate it.


yesterday i wrote a meaningful post about petunias. no, for real, i did. it didn’t post and now it’s gone so you’ll just have to take my word for it. i fucken love petunias. my post was titled - ding dong the witch is dead- because my cunt neighbor who hates cats and petunias moved out. petunias are southern and east coast and remind me of virginia and north & south carolina. they make me happy so i plant tons of them every year. petunias and honeysuckles take me back to my childhood. i chose ultra white and burgundy petunias this year. with one ultra violet for my grandma violet. 

All Grown Up

Anonymous said:

hi, I love your stories. Could you do a SpencerxReader where they were best friends as kids, but then that when Spencer moved away and before he did move the reader and him and shared a kiss. Then they meet when they’re older and go through the memories and mentions the kiss or something like that. Thank you


“Spencer, why are you going away?”

I watched Spencer as he packed the last of his bags carefully, no doubt fitting them all in there perfectly by way of some mathematical formula. He glanced up at my words and bit his lip as he averted his gaze again, quickly.

“Because there are more opportunities for me there,” he said softly.

“Yeah, but I’m here,” I said beseechingly. I hated myself for it, because I knew he was right and there were countless opportunities for someone like Spencer on the East coast, but I was desperate to make him stay.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh. I could see the worry and sadness in his eyes when he looked back up at me.

“I know,” I replied with a sigh to match his. I slipped off the railing I had been sitting on and stood facing him. Spencer looked down at me through those hazel eyes and I smiled sadly up at him, taking in the wayward golden curls and long lashes and angular face. Spencer was, I had no doubt, the love of my life. With all his awkward mannerisms and the personality that incited judgement and ridicule from others, not to mention scorn from those who wished they were as smart as him, Spencer Reid was the best friend I’d ever had.

From the moment I’d met him in kindergarten, the only year Spencer was ever in the same grade as me, I’d felt an undeniable connection to him. And now, fifteen years later, I was about to be without Spencer for the first time since I was five years old.

I had no clue what I was going to do with myself.

But, as I had always done, I took a deep breath and pulled myself together for Spencer’s sake. Some had called our relationship unequal, had said that I was always making the sacrifices, that Spencer just went along as he was while I changed for him. They were right. I was the one changing for Spencer, but not because he wouldn’t have done it for me; just because I wanted to do it for him. I have always been content in Spencer’s shadow, working behind the scenes to make things better for him.

So, with my heart breaking, I looked up and smiled at him, a smile that reached my eyes because I forced it to.

“Please don’t be mad that I’m going,” he said quietly, looking for all the world in that moment like the little boy I had found on the first day of kindergarten sitting all alone on the playground with his mismatched socks that the other kids had teased him for.

“Oh, Spencer, come here,” I said, reaching up to wrap my arms around him, his thin frame folding into me. “I’m not mad,” I told him softly, breathing in the warm, spicy scent I had come to associate with home.

“Really?” he asked hopefully, pulling back to look at me.

“Really,” I confirmed with a smile. “How could I ever be mad at you?”

He smiled, and I felt that all the tears I knew would come later were worth it.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, and suddenly I felt reckless and wild, like all the pent-up feeling couldn’t be controlled. And in that moment, knowing he was leaving, I didn’t care what I did. So I did the thing I’d been wanting to do for nearly ten years and, brushing his curls back with one hand, I stood on my tip-toes and pressed my lips to Spencer Reid’s.

When he pulled away, he stared at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life.

“(Y/N)-“ he began, but I cut him off with a shake of my head and a small smile.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” I said. “Please don’t say anything. Just let me have the moment, okay?”

He looked as if he were going to say something else, but decided against it and nodded.

“I’ll visit,” he said. I nodded.

“I can call,” he offered weakly. Again, I just nodded, knowing that I had just forever altered our relationship and suddenly no longer possessing the ability to pull it together for Spencer’s sake. My reckless, impulsive action had sent us both reeling. I would have regretted it if not for how good it felt. I smiled, waved Spencer into his car despite his hesitant glances back at me, and watched as he drove away.


I walked into the coffee shop, and that morning, nearly ten years after the day I had kissed Spencer Reid, the adorable genius was the last thing on my mind.

Until I walked into him.

From my spot on the ground, I blinked up at a man I hadn’t seen in a decade.

“(Y/N),” he said, and the sound of his voice was jarring and sent me into a spiral of emotion. Memories flashed through my mind at high speed like flipping pages.  

“Spencer,” I said.

“Oh, sorry,” he said suddenly, reaching out a hand to help me up. I took it and felt a bone-deep warmth spread through my body.

“Why don’t you, um…do you want to get some coffee?” he asked. I nodded quickly, surprised by my own eagerness, and Spencer smiled.

We settled down with coffee, tucked away in a small booth across from each other.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“(Y/N), you kissed me and never answered my letters or returned my calls,” he said. “Why?”

“Oh, Spencer, that was…that was ten years ago,” I said.

“Ten years, two months, and eleven days,” he said immediately. “I know it was a long time ago, but I still want to understand why you did that,” he said. I looked at his earnest hazel eyes and I felt myself soften in spite of myself.

“Spencer, I…I don’t know what got into me, you know? We were best friends, and I felt like that kiss had the potential to just ruin everything we had, but I wanted to, I had always wanted to, and then afterward, I just felt like…”

“You didn’t want to be with me?” he asked quietly. I stared at him in shock.

“Oh, god, no,” I said. “No, Spencer, just the opposite.”


“I wanted to be with you desperately, but I couldn’t be. You were leaving and I knew that.”

“I would have stayed,” he said softly.

“I know, Spence,” I said. “That was my point exactly. I couldn’t hold you back like that.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he met my eyes.

“Are you staying here?” he asked.

“I-yeah, I’ve moved here. Last week,” I replied.

“Then can we try this again?” he asked, his boldness a new attribute he’d gained sometime in the last decade. I smiled.

“I think that’s a really good idea,” I replied, and Spencer’s smile spread across his face and lit up his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” he asked.


“I missed you,” he said. I smiled slightly at him, reaching across the table to touch his hand.

“I missed you, too, Spencer.”

Yom Kippur 1984

by Adrienne Rich

                    I drew solitude over me, on the long shore. 
                                        —Robinson Jeffers, “Prelude”   

          For whoever does not afflict his soul through this day, shall be 
          cut off from his people. 
                                                                           —Leviticus 23:29

What is a Jew in solitude? What would it mean not to feel lonely or afraid far from your own or those you have called your own? What is a woman in solitude:   a queer woman or man? In the empty street, on the empty beach, in the desert what in this world as it is can solitude mean?

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its ya girl shannon, back at it again, hella slytherin aesthetic !! i luv snakes !! i can talk with em so i pull up with venom, aye !!! why am i making another character and an alumni too wat 11/10 i didnt need this i hate myself p.s. ashlynn is a bad influence. i basically play everyone here if u didnt kno and i’m east coast chillin ig

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Two of Us Chapter 5: Insult to Injury

Story Summary:  After over a half decade at Shibusen, Soul is finally returning home to attend his brother’s wedding, bringing his meister with him for moral support. When a misunderstanding forces Soul and Maka to pretend they are in a different sort of partnership, will it lead to fate or folly?

This chapter marks the first switch to Soul’s POV, which will happen only a few times in this story.  It made it particularly difficult to get down.  As usual, thanks to rebornfromash and ilarual for their support and superb beta work–this would be much crappier without them.  

Links to Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2, Chapter 3, and Chapter 4 in case you missed them.

Everything can also be found on FF.Net and AO3.

Soul had no words, his mind blank and numb at his own actions as he trailed after his brother to slide into the passenger seat of the small black SUV because he’d just kissed his meister.  He’d just kissed his meister, and it had been fantastic at the same time it was horrible because he’d sprung it on her and in the end it was just a part of this stupid fucking game they’d been forced to play, that he had practically begged her to play, and it wasn’t fair that something that was just an act had felt so real and good and right.  He wanted to shout his elation to the heavens at the same time he felt like crying his despair because how long had he wished he could do that?  How many dreams had he had of kissing her, more than kissing her?  And yet, to do it like this, a part of some cruel farce, was never what he’d wanted.

Was it wrong that he was glad that his first kiss was with Maka even if it wasn’t real?  Even if he was the only one for whom it actually meant something?  It was pathetic, true, that he was nineteen and had never before kissed a girl, but when the only girl you’d ever actually wanted to kiss was your partner of seven years who wanted nothing to do with you or anyone romantically, it did tend to make things pretty fucking difficult.  

Then again, maybe it was just him she didn’t want.  Soul knew it wasn’t her first kiss, though who and when she had kissed someone else was something she’d never been willing to tell him, only that it happened.  He had to fight down the dark tendrils of jealousy that clawed at his heart at the thought because, really, who did he have to blame for the knowledge but himself?  

He remembered teasing her that no one would want to kiss a violent bookworm when he was young and stupid and oblivious to his own growing feelings, to the fact that he, in fact, wanted to kiss a violent bookworm, and she had haughtily replied that at least she had actually been kissed.  He remembered, though they were only fourteen, feeling the wave of sickening shock hit him at the knowledge because even then, so long ago, he had somehow come to think of her as his Maka. The only problem was, Maka was not some possession and she had never belonged to anyone, least of all him.  He might desperately wish to possess her heart as fully as she had long since possessed his, however unwittingly, but you could wish in one hand and shit in the other, as the saying went, and all that wishing had done for him was end in a lot of long, hot showers alone.

The scythe was pulled from his near brooding by a light cough, his brother turning a questioning gaze to him for an instant before returning his eyes to the road.


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anonymous asked:

How have you been Christian? What have you been up to

Ah!!!! I haven’t been answering as many questions on here lately and I do feel very bad about it. Trying 2 be better with this from now on tho!!! My paranoia and anxiety and perfectionism has even trickled it’s way into something as petty as answering questions!!! Not cool !!! But I feel like if I’m going to answer something publicly I want it to be detailed and worthwhile and I don’t want to give the same advice over and over ya know? Even just in conversations and texts and things, small talk or repetitiveness just seems like a waste of time!!! That’s why it’s hard to release any sort of music or video or project for me!!! I hold very high standards for myself and I rarely feel like I have the ability to meet them and my mind is always changing and then when I do release something, I hate it within like, 5 minutes!!! I am 99% gonna want to delete this after typing it for example. Hm I am just using this as a place to ramble pls forgive. I am alright overall ! Life is happy! Drinking several iced coffees each morning and watching lots of hip hop interviews and food network. Occasionally shooting hoops or tossing around a football when time allows. I lived on the east coast for awhile which was fun and most likely am going back to Boston for the whole summer!!! Working on 3 separate albums, 2 of which are nearly done, and a short film to accompany 1 of them! Also working on a video which hopefully will be done soon!! Lots of ideas always. It is just so difficult to figure out what to focus on or what to do that it feels like I’m doing nothing at all, which sends u into more depression usually. I want to make a magazine someday and a beautiful cooking show with lots of nice scenery breaks cut into it. I have so many weird dreams every night and I keep meeting ppl in them, that I don’t remember meeting or existing in reality, and then I wake up and get very disappointed. In my dream last night I lived in this incredibly cool house near San Diego and now I feel like I want to move there, despite how much I dislike California!!! I want to move somewhere new everyday! The south seems interesting. I want to go to Romania as well. I also have alot of dreams where I hang out with my biggest heroes, usually rappers, and I am always trying to get them 2 like me and accept me for who I am. It’s a tough task. Nvr give up on your dreams. The air is so pure where I am might have to go outside and take a few breaths rly quick. Hm. I am so scared of ppl giving up on me because I feel like there is still ssssoooo much I want to do and I have alot of progressive ideas and haven’t nearly reached the peak of them. But sometimes u fail and that is just part of life. Life is happy! In some way! Anyways as usual thanks for asking and feel free to send me any messages telling me about ur day or life or whatever. Enough about me. Type 1 mill words in my inbox, I am interested to read, regardless of whether I can reply or not. U’ve got a safe place. Cheers

Dear California,

I think that there has been a mix up in the mail. Somehow, we’ve received your weather and you have received ours. It happens. But it is really confusing the trees. Write back to us if you want to switch. Also, if you could, ask Oregon if they are missing any rain too. We are getting just a wee bit more than usual. Virginia hates having to wear the water wings.


The East Coast

                                           “This isn’t home”

      Open blue skies were the only familiar thing about California. Sure, Dallon still lived in a world famous state- thanks to that Katy Perry Song- and his life was still lavish thanks to his step-father’s success, but it was lacking. The buildings weren’t as awe inspiring as New York skyscrapers, and these dirty faces that roamed the streets weren’t the usual bums he would pass from time to time. He had grown up on the East Coast and that horrible man who invaded his life uprooted him. All for what? To bring him to a hotel that was way passed it’s prime. It was safe to say the boy was hating the situation and his only way to combat homesickness was to fight back with anger. So, instead of spending the day indoors where William, the step-father from hell, could keep tabs on him Dal ventured out into Horrorville.

      It seemed that Dallon’s eyes had grown acustomed to casting their attention towards the pigeons as they flew overhead. Not to watch for free falling shit, but to get a breath of nostalgia. Those brilliant blue eyes of his couldn’t stay glued to the endless stretch of blue forever, though. Not when he had a gordita from Taco Bell sitting in his lap, waiting to be devoured. The great thing about Taco Bell was that it was nationwide. The same food they served up in his hometown was identical to the meal he had seated right in his lap. His pearly whites bit down into the soft shell and a near orgasmic moan rumbled in Dallon’s chest. The only thing he had been eating since his arrival was the lousy room service of the Hotel Cortez lately. Anybody in the vicinity of the park he sat in would surely note his enthusiasm for eating as unusual.

Arrow 4x08: The Flarrow Crossover Meta: The Lies We Tell Others and the Lies We Tell Ourselves

The fervor of the fandom’s fury was a living, breathing monstrosity immediately following the East Coast airing of Arrow 4x08. I was a part of that party. But to be clear, while I am disappointed in Oliver, I do not hate him. That seemed to be a misconception that people vocalizing anger and frustration somehow suddenly hated Oliver Queen. Maybe there were people saying those things, but they didn’t appear on any timeline or dashboard of mine. If that is true that people were turning their backs on Oliver, and moreover, Olicity, that is sad.

I am not a fair weather friend. But I’m also not an enabler and when I see a friend doing something destructive, I call it out. I do not consider myself a fair weather ‘shipper or fangirl.

Leading up to this episode I was curious but cautious. People thought I was ridiculous to be worried about the storyline. That it would never break up Oliver and Felicity. I agreed with them about that, because that wasn’t where my concern was. My concern was how the story was going to be handled and how it would impact Oliver. I don’t typically have a lot of faith in TV writers. I have been burned before. If it had been handled right, or rather the exact opposite of what happened on my TV, I would have eagerly watched Oliver’s journey as he discovered he had a son.

But what I got was a repeat of previous experiences. Oliver aside, I’m not typically a fan of surprise children stories. They’ve never done any show I’ve ever watched any good. Examples: Conor on Angel; the baby between Max and Tess on Roswell; Connor Bennett on Revolution; hell, I’ll even throw in Dawn from Buffy. Dawn was technically Buffy’s sister but sort of like her daughter too. Very Chinatown. Honorable mention for Cordelia’s weird beast baby on Angel too. The writers clearly had no more ideas for that character and they really ruined her in her last arc (that was also tied into doucheface Conor).


Originally posted by hectornaem

As you can tell, I’ve got history that tells me that when the air begins to shift and the breeze brings on it a whiff of BABY MAMA DRAMA I think, “Take shelter!” and “Gird your loins!” I tend to get bitter because Dorothy’s tornado sent her to beautiful, technicolor Oz and mine tend to drop me in that pig pen back in Kansas. I groan, then remind myself I’ve been through this before and survived and I can do it again. I pull on my big girl panties and stand looking at that twister as it comes barreling at me. I might land in pig shit, for sure, but that’s why God made power washers.

In the interest of being fair and level-headed I am going to try to see both sides of this story choice. I don’t think seeing the other side justifies its existence but I’m going to give it my level best. As my professors always said, “You can’t argue against something if you can’t anticipate the other side’s argument against you.”

But warning to the Arrow writers if ever you dare to read Tumblr and read the arguments of those of us who do more than insult you in 140 characters: I’m going to talk about how you do your jobs. Spoiler Alert: 


More after the jump: 

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Things I did today instead of virulently hating others:

- Went to the National Zoo and saw elephants and pandas
- Went to a fancy gala dinner in a fancy dress
- Had lots of fancy drinks
- Got some pretty flowers!
- Danced to not very good but still danceable music
- Met some very cool people from all along the East Coast
- Had some nice sorbet
- Came back to my lovely and well-appointed hotel room to catch up on fic updates

Life is so much more beautiful when you fully erase anti drama. I just don’t CARE anymore. I watched a panda eat bamboo with his feet today. He gave as many fucks about why Reylo is bad as I do at this point.

Be like the the panda, fellow shippers. Be like the panda.

Not A Robot

I had a couple of anon requests and managed to (somehow) put them together and make this little thing. One asked for ‘Grace has a panic attack. Chester starts singing Lullaby.’, the other ‘first time she visited NYC during Rock of Ages.’
I hope this is okay!

Grace feels things. Grester. SFW. 1,815 words

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(Three words, one kiss, and a dash of cinnamon.)

My little lovebug’s (blowmiakisscolin) birthday is next week! So, being that I am poor and there is an ocean between us, I decided to make her present be little fluffy captainswan ficlets. I love her little face and I hope this makes you happy Mia Boo<3 I didn’t include Walsh in this fic because I possess too much anger towards him. (; Enjoy

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