but look at that wee face

One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. He’ll know how old you were when you learned to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, where you were when you lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have to organise your DVD’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how many sugars to put in your tea, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. He’s going to know how you feel without you telling him, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you 

Did I Shave My Legs For This?

Today I witnessed men mocking a woman for having hairy legs and underarms. I have something to say about this.

Firstly, the shaving of legs is a new fashion trend. It was done a bit in the 20′s, but honestly, it wasn’t until the forties that anyone gave a damn. Before that, no one saw your legs, because they wee covered in skirts. Men didn’t even know women HAD legs.

Slight exaggeration, but still quite meaningful.

In the last 70 years, men have gone from not knowing and not caring one bit about female body hair, to completely transforming their ideal feminine counterpart into a hairless model. Men like to tout masculinity as being impervious, but I’ll warrant you, you can watch them evolve with the feedback of marketing scams run on their little mammalian brains.

Did Queen Victoria have shaved legs…well, let’s first establish that yes, she did actually have legs. But were they hairless? During her 60-odd year reign, did she employ some servant to come pluck out her hairs?

Did Queen Elizabeth have hairless legs? 44 years of reign, at the time the longest reigning monarch of British history, but no, you’re right. She probably had the Lady of the Royal Chamber rake on a good lather before she went out in her Spanish farthingale.

Did Cleopatra have a straight razor? Did Helen of Troy? These are two women who literally destroyed nations with their beauty and the lust men had for them. Do you think they had shaved legs? What about their underarms?

Now, yes, there were traditions of removing hair. The Roman women, for example, plucked their hair out of their underarms, but I promise you…no one sat about for hours having their legs plucked with tweezers. And if they did, they had a lot of time and money to spare.

Do you know who Boudicca is? She was an Icenian queen during the first century. She led a rebellion against Roman factions at Londinium. 

Famously, she said, “This is done with the resolve of a woman. Men may live as slaves if they wish.”

She leveled three Roman outposts, well-established settlements. And came to Londinium with an army decked out in stolen Roman arms. They razed the city to the ground with fires so thick that an ash layer still exists in the stria of the City of London to this very day. As she rode through the old city on her chariot, with her Roman spear in hand, poised to launch it through the throat of a fleeing patrician, did she pause her assault to wonder…

Did I shave my legs for this?

As the man fell to the ground, choking on his own blood and the ash from the searing fires, do you think he looked up at this queen, this woman defiant and majestic, and thought, “Ye gods, what hirsuit underarms!”

I wonder how many plucked Roman women were trampled by that carriage.

I wonder if Anne Bonny, the notorious pirate ever was mocked by her male crew for having a fluffy undercarriage.

I wonder if when Annie Oakley, at 15, beat her crackshot future husband at a shooting contest, he looked at her little knees and thought, “Not this one. She’s too furry.”

I wonder if Anne Boleyn was beheaded for wearing a pair of furry britches beneath her skirts.

I wonder, if while He suckled as an infant, resplendent in holy fire and divinity, the newborn Jesus Christ, tucked His wee face to the crook of His Virgin Mother’s arm and let out a squeal at the ghastly sight of her unshaven underarms. Or if when He was installing himself in her abdomen, He gave a moment’s pause to think, “Dear Me, what am I doing, shoving myself into this horribly hairy wench?”

The answer to all of these is…No. Of course not, you fucking idiot.

Body hair exists for a reason, you stupid semi-hairless apes. Don’t you ever wonder why you still have it? I will tell you why. It provides necessary warmth, not just with insulation, but with the way your anatomy functions. Air catches the hairs and lifts them, causing a tickle that forces the follicle to swell into goose flesh, warming the skin through motion. It provides protection from the sun. And in the regions where it is thickest, it guards against the elements, keeps out parasites, and keeps your sensitive areas like your eyes, from being drowned in sweat. It even cushions and reduces the likelihood of heat rashes and chafing in the parts of you that touch. Hair is important. It wasn’t just Sampson who gained strength from it.

And I wonder, if while Sampson was laid low, his power sapped, if he looked up at the gorgeous Delilah with her treacherous shears and thought… “Why didn’t she pluck her eyebrows!”

Power is walking into a room with nothing in hand, and doing just fine.

Beauty is standing as you are, but embodying all that is graceful and powerful about the female condition.

And judging a woman on a trend that is younger then my oldest knee-length hemline is an act of such supreme stupidity and transient masculinity that I cannot even describe how ridiculous I find it. But men are the ones who are rational, yes? Men and all their manly manliness are immune to fads and trends and “girly fashion shit”, right, “bruh”?

Women have hair on their bodies same as you. You seem to do just fine wearing yours. Why do you begrudge her hers?

I say we start a new trend, where females begin to harass the worst offenders for having hairy legs. I shan’t be pleased if in 70 years, I am not seeing all men in shorts looking like the backside of a baby from the knee down. I want to see hordes of women tracking down these men who label a type of deception as beauty, and demanding they carve off their top layer of skin and fur. I want to hear these men who cannot see valor, fortitude, strength, and hair as beautiful, squeak when they walk.

And then I want all humans to embrace that which makes them soft and healthy, and stop rewriting history by turning it into one inglorious quest for vanity.

Jealousy

Originally posted by mizlat

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader (Requested by Reader)

Hello! How are you? Can I request a jealous ivar fic? The plot is up to you because you’re an amazing writer!

You loved Ivar, you really did; but sometimes, he was too difficult to deal with. He had his anger issues and his insecurities, just like every other viking. He had a way of ‘throwing a fit’ when he didn’t get what he wanted and sometimes, he was just too much for you.

You weren’t dating him or anything, although you sometimes wish you were. You had grown up with Ivar; going around as kids. You would pull his little wagon that he sat in behind you as you went and scared other children or followed his mother around. You had grown up like siblings and were still incredibly close.

You stuck through with him and helped him cope with his disability and his brothers always picking on him because of it. After the death of his mother, you seemed to be the only one who was truly there for him, besides his father. But eventually, his father had died too. You were with him when he got the news and you will never forget his reaction.

You seemed to be the only consistent thing in his life at the moment. So, when Sigurd had started to hit on you, you couldn’t help but notice Ivar starting to act strange. You had tried to confront him about it, but every time he would just ignore you and crawl away. Until today. He had tried to crawl away and had gotten a pretty far distance when you shook your head and ran for him.

Keep reading

At some conventions there are artist-related events because literally every nerdy fandom attracts a number of artists in various stages of aspiration. One such event at Indy Pop Con was the Drink ‘n’ Draw- where we all met up at Scotty’s for brews and had a drawing session. 

I didn’t really read the blurb, I just kind of wanted to hang out with other artists and talk about cats. So I did certainly not know that it was a competition- first prize gets a free artist’s table at next year’s show. Runners up get a bag of goodies with a sketch book and some nice pens. Judge faves get a sketch commission.

Now I am not a competitive person. Like… I’ll participate in friendly competition if it’s a thing I like doing, but I’m not in it to win it. So I was just like… pff whatever, I’ll make someone else look good. 

But you have to adhere to a theme. And this year’s theme was ‘The Last Battle.’

And it could be anything you want within that theme. Mostly they were looking at things like storytelling, composition, and technique. 

I wasted about fifteen minutes of the hour and a half that we had, trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I’m awful at open-ended themes all the time and I mentally rattled off a list of subjects that would be good to work with before I finally landed on one that I wanted to do. 

Barney the Purple Dinosaur. 

And I know what you’re thinking:

“What?”

But literally every kid I know grew up twisting the theme song to Barney and turning it into some morbid collection of ways to end the dinosaur’s reign of terror and all of them involved tying him to a tree. 

‘With a knife in his back and a gun to his head-

Woopsie-daisy, Barney’s dead.’

And I figured like… since I’m not really here to win, I’m at least gonna have a good time. So I skipped past the pencil stage and went straight for the sharpies and went to town on this piece of paper. 

And I was not gonna hold back. 

With ten minutes left, the event runner walks by my table and has this ‘what in the fuck is this’ look on his face.

“You know… like in the song?”

“…what song?”

Okay so this is the first person I have met in my life that has not indulged in the honored past-time of recounting the Death of Barney through song. So I start singing the song and he’s still just a wee bit perturbed. 

He walks away, shaking his head, but he’s definitely amused by it. 

Time is up, drawings are in. 

I’m just chillin’ over in my corner with a Pepsi and one of the other artists at my table keeps eyeing the judges because she came to WIN.  She nudges me and she’s like “they keep looking at yours, man.”

“They’re probably trying to dry it off because I spilled Pepsi on it.”

“I dunno… they look intrigued.”

Intrigued is an… intriguing word to describe the faces they were making at my hot mess of a doodle. 

The winners have been decided. 

They get through their personal faves and start listing the runners up. The artist that was checking the judge reactions got one of the judge’s favorites prizes. My girlfriend gets a runner-up for hers. They get to the last one of the runners-up and say:

“Okay, this one came REALLY close.” He holds up a drawing. “Who did this one?”

My hand shot straight up.

“Is that… is that BARNEY?”

“OH GOD WHY?”

“What the fuck?”

I am SHOCKED at this point because what kind of a childhood did y’all have? A fucking nurturing one? “Come on guys, it’s like that song. You know… tie barney to a tree…”

No?

Nothing?

Come on!

So that’s how I won a free sketchbook and came to be known as the chick that ruined everyone’s childhood at Drink’ n’ Draw. 

And I suspect I might have actually won the table if I’d made it clearer that the shadowy figure walking off into the sunset is Baby Bop. 

the gangsey as scottish tweets
  • gansey: im at the age where people r askin "so what u doin with ur life" n im like mate am genuinely jus here for a laff x
  • blue sargent: issue wi males that think it's acceptable to comment on how a girl looks when she's buzzin am not oot tae be stunnin am oot tae cut mad shapes
  • ronan lynch: i deh trust the dentist when they start talking in code about your teeth to their wee pal, you got suhin to say say it to ma face prick
  • adam parrish: maw n da tryin to shout it ye when ye crack yer phone sayin ye dont look after it aye right fs this hing means more tae me than use do fs
  • noah czerny: had a sick weekend but ad be telling big fibs if a said a didnt feel like a common toe nail
  • henry cheng: imagine the week before yer wedding ye came home fae work early to surprise yer bf and walked in on him wearin bootcut jeans
Emotional Cheating

“Hiya love.”

Harry greeted from the doorway of your shared bedroom, his eyes looking discreetly at the clock that stated it’s 1 AM in the wee hours of morning.

“Told you not to wait up for me.”

He took his polo off that was slightly damp from his swear along with his jeans, leaving him in his boxers, going to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, feeling the extra fatigue come to his system once he felt fresh from having been tired in the studio and having a few drinks in the bar.

He went to your side of the bed and pressed a kiss on your cheek, a downgrade of what used to be a long kiss on your lips or a hug in where he’d nuzzle his face on the crook of your neck, completely inhaling your scent before pressing little kisses.

“How was your day?”

“’S good, finished some backing vocals. Had a few drinks with Nick and Kendall.”

Your stomach slightly felt queasy at the mention of her, but the feeling lifted for a second to realize that Harry’s your boyfriend, not her’s.

You weren’t blind to not see the older pictures of Harry and Kendall every time you scrolled down your feed of any social media account, nor the times Hardy made clear and evident that she was just a friend yet with him being a bit more talkative when she was there.

Yet deep inside you, you had the assurance that Harry loves you, yet not eaxactly as much as expressive as you are.

“You tired, baby?”

You asked, your hand going through his hair which made him release a sound of comfort, his head pressed upon your palm, humming out an answer you expected.


“Baby!”

You immediately relaxed once you heard Harry’s voice the moment he accepted your call, the bass of the loud music as his background not going unnoticed.

“Where are you, love?”

“O — oh! I forgot to tell you this morning! It’s Kendall’s birthday today!”

The plan of spending a special night with Harry crumbled underneath your fingertips, making you take a deep breath to control yourself.

It was supposed to be a night to be spent completely between the both of you, especially now that you were promoted a rank higher in your job, something that you’ve hoped for ever since the start.

“What time are you going home, H?”

He hummed, the image of Harry probably looking at his watch striking in your mind, making you wait anxiously.

“Maybe a few minutes after midnight? And Y/N, baby, I told you not to wait up for me. ’S the reason why you’re always tired in the morning.”

“God forbid I get tired, Harry. Wish her a happy birthday for me, will you?”

“Will do, love,” he almost shouted since he couldn’t hear himself through the music, the sound of his name being called by probably one of his friends being heard by the both of you.

“Okay. I love y-…”

You were cut short with the line being completely dropped, upsetting you maybe a bit more than it should, making you turn your attention to the drink in front of you.


“Cheating. They call it emotional cheating.”

“What?”

Harry’s eyebrows immediately furrowed from what you were saying, stopping himself from putting some clothes in his duffel bag that would last him for a day and in his toiletries, his attention completely turning towards you whose arms are crossed and standing in the doorway.

“Love, what the hell are you saying?”

He asked, nearing towards you and putting his hands on your shoulder, a concerned look on his face.

“Is this about your birthday tomorrow? Baby, I told you I would make up for it. You know I promised James I would come to his baby shower. Which happens to be in a yacht for a day.”

“Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I would be lying if I tell you that I didn’t notice how invested you are in Kendall. Every time you see her, the picture; the conversations.”

Harry breathed out since he noticed you lately of you changing your habits slightly, of how your eyes looked tired.

Yet beyond that, he didn’t seem to notice on how much you compromised. On how much you adjusted your life around him so you could be simply with him.

“Love, it just happens that James invited Kendall too. It isn’t my decision.”

You stared at your feet, feeling the hollowness in your heart for what felt alike in the past few months, your hands being put on top of his shoulders.

“You love me, right?”

“I do.”


It was obvious.

The moment Harry appeared on the door from the night after James’ baby shower, he already knew that you knew it.

And in fact, you already knew it, if it wasn’t for the people tagging you on posts numerously that your phone blew up with notifications, nor the text James sent saying that he’s sincerely sorry because if he knew, he wouldn’t invite either of them and even scold Harry.

He was looking at you expectingly, the tears already flowing out of his eyes as his heart dropped on the sight of you sitting silently on the couch, cussing himself silently of how much he messed up.

“Please say something.”

His voice cracked, pleading for you to say anything, whether it would favor him or not because at that moment, the silence was killing him slowly. He knew how well you could give a silent treatment and remembered a promise to himself long ago that he wouldn’t cross you again because he hates it.

He hates every single bit of it.

“That’s a nice birthday present.”

His heart tightened of what she just said, regretting the things he’ve done faster than when he did it, fully knowing that you can’t and you’re not looking into his eyes.

“I’m giving you a choice. So you wouldn’t think of me as being selfish.”

You stood up, looking down the floor until your feet was a good ruler away from his shoes, making it as a basis so that you wouldn’t get close to him.

“Five days. First choice is I stay here and not talk nor do anything that has to do with me interacting with you. Second is that I stay in a hotel and we could talk. On the phone, one call. Five minutes a day.”

“Love-…” Harry cut himself short, clenching and unclenching his fist at the weight of the moment he carries.

“It would kill me to not either see you nor talk to you.”

You wanted to fight him with what he said, but you took off the urge, your gaze still fixed on the floor.

“Pick.”

Harry gulped, desperately wanting to fix what he caused in the first place.

“Y/N-…”

“Fucking pick.”

He knew it. He knew it better than anyone should to not break your trust. Especially when you cussed at him while fighting. And yet again, he brought it upon himself. The both of you suffering.

Harry hiccuped out his answer amidst his tears, feeling the pain sear right through his seams that he felt shitty to say the least.

“Second.”


Would he use his five minutes now?

It was less than thirty minutes after you left the house on the same day he went home, bringing yourself and nothing else but your car, your keys, your phone and your cash.

You figured that you would buy clothes in the mini boutiques the hotel has once the air gets too suffocating in your room.

You figured that you would rely on the hotel’s complimentary incentives for the toilteries.

You figured that you would have a drink or two from the mini bar they consider that’s in their mini refigerator.

Harry thought of it for a moment if it would be a good time to use his five minutes. Even better is what’s he going to say.

Your commitment is hanging on by five phone calls he’s going to make, your judgement, and maybe includes his prayers for you to be back on his arms.


2 | https://pendantstyles.tumblr.com/post/162186715656/emotional-cheating-2

5

oh god im sorry i stalked your blogs for references for like 2 hours 

@drawinggheys @raythrill @objectionable-code @terror-in-the-dream @bocitena @juuria @halpdevon @lauwurens 

so uh… how do i words , uhm… a lot of you dont know me– hell i think only three people here know who i am, but i really really like your art (and art styles) and i look up to all of you a lot, and i look for inspiration from you guys almost every day so uhm… oh my god everyone is just so beautiful, the style, the colors, the line density, the face shapes– I COULD KEEP GOING ON AND ON REALLY—- but i cant because this post is long enough as it is

there’s so many more people i want to add and thank for being such a wonderful sources of awe and inspiration but my shoulder is killing me and its currently an ungodly hour of the wee mornings so i ask for pardon

ah– anyway, bottom line, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING AN INSPIRATION keep doing what you’re doing and i hope you continue to grow and be happier with your art every new day that comes your way!

-Celi <3

P.S. btw if you’re uncomfortable with me putting up your style there please message me and i’ll take it down im sorry;;;;;

“It’s My Job” protective!harry

Authors Note: Guess who’s back after a long ass hiatus. I had some free time and magically got a request so I'm convinced that yall can feel my lack of busyness. Anyways here it is I hope you enjoy, this is dedicated to my baby Carolina aka @antisocialandcute stay strong babes and I love you.Credits to whoever created the gif, I legit got it off google search lol/ Enjoy and find more of my writing here 

Warnings: Mild violence

Request:  Could you write something about a similar situation happening in between harry and the misses like the one that happened with louis and el at the airport? Maybe a bad fan experience and and protective!harry?


To say that you were two were tired would be a complete understatement. The travel back from Holmes Chapel back to New York wore you out every time you and Harry chose to visit Anne and his family. You spent most of your flight snuggling into each other and catching blissful Zzzs as your private plane took you home. But alas your privacy wouldn’t last long, after your seven and half hour flight you still had to make it through the terminal and drive home. This wouldn’t be that big of a challenge, except your boyfriend just so happens to be Harry Styles and traveling with him means being met with annoying paps and angsty fans at almost every corner. You held onto Harry’s as you entered the terminal, he kept you behind but as close as he could knowing how bad it can get when the paps are involved. It was not long before you two finally encountered a pap, Harry tried his best to use his charm giving the pap a wave and a half-hearted cheeky smile but it wasn’t enough. This pap was determined to bother you, his camera constantly flashing in your direction shouting your name and snapping at you to get your attention as if you wee some type of dog.

“(Y/N)!(Y/N)!(Y/N! Look over here doll face!  I won’t bite hard cutie!”

You heard Harry let out a small growl, the tone territorial and annoyed. He pulled you in front of him swiftly, his forearm securely wrapped around your torso.

“Listen to me kitten, I need you to go ahead of me”, he whispered in your ear.

“Wha-Why? “

“I’m going to get rid of this asshole and once I do I will be right back beside you”, he glared at the pap as he continued his slur of perverted comments.

“Are you sure”.

“ ‘solutely, I’m right behind you love.just speed walk as fast as you can and I’ll be there soon”, he assured you. You nodded your head agreeing to the plan, Harry placed a kiss on your forehead before letting you go from his grasp.

You immediately began to pick up your speed, trying your hardest to not look back at Harry and the pap. So caught up in your own movement you didn’t realize that the pap was the least of your problems. The fans caught word that you and Harry were now exiting the terminal, while some were lined up outside two had found their way to the gate you had exited from.

“(Y/N)! Can we get a picture please”

Despite the pap situation, you didn’t see the harm in taking 2 minutes to take a picture with the two fans.

“Why of course”, you smiled walking toward the girls. As one girl held up her camera and posed with you other went behind the two of you.

It all happened too fast. The camera went off. You let out a small laugh. Next thing you knew you were on the floor. The girl behind you had pulled your hair and the one by your side had smashed your face with her phone.

Your initial shock prevented you from reacting, but you heard Harry’s voice yelling your name which instantly snapped you out of your shock. You brought yourself to your feet, the girls’ steel crowding around wiggling as you gained your balance.  

You felt the anger rush over you but just before you could swing your arm to clock one of the girls in the jaw, Harry had already come running toward you picking you up and pulling you away from the girls.

“What’s wrong(Y/N), can’t defend yourself”

“She always makes Harry do all the work, lazy bitch”

You pushed against Harry trying to break from his grasp. “Harry let me go! Let me go! They can’t just get away with that”. Harry placed you down and cupped your cheeks, still holding you back from attacking the girls.

“(Y/N) look at me. Hey hey look at me !”, you tried your best keep from making eye contact with him. You never got angry or cared about what people have to say for the most part, but this was different. They touched you and that couldn’t be taken lightly.

“(Y/N) please. I will never let anyone hurt you again, that starts by getting you out of here. ‘S not worth it”.

You knew he was right and you hated him and loved him for it.You let out a huff,”Okay let’s go “.

He placed a kiss on your forehead and whispered a thank you before wrapping his arm around you and guiding you out of the terminal

Once you two arrived home, Harry treated you to a bubble bath and your favorite takeout. He apologized over and over again for not being there when you needed him most, each time you shut him down not wanting him to feel guilty for something he could not control. As Harry washes the dishes, you walked into the kitchen and wrapped your arms around his torso.

”Thank you”, you mumbled as you kissed bicep.

”For what”, he turned  around placing a kiss on your lips and stroking your

“Protecting me today”, you smiled as you looked up into his eyes.

Harry let out a slight snicker, making you smile slightly fall

“What’s so funny?”, you pouted crossing your arms”

“You thanking me for doing my job”. His hands pulled your arms apart pulling you close to him.

“Well I like being polite”

“And I like protecting my baby”, Harry smile beamed down at you before leaning down and kissing your lips.

Christmas headcanon: Derek wakes up to find Stiles has wrapped him in twinkling lights and tinsel. There are baubles hanging from his ears and toes. His nipples are painted red and green. Stiles is convinced he’s going to be Extra Grumpy about it and prepares for a Christmas Smackdown; aka a Shirtless Wrestle (which, you know, he’s TOTALLY not counting on or anything).

Instead, what he gets is Derek frowning, confused (and, man, why is a confused Derek always an adorable one? Stiles swears he didn’t sign up for this) before whispering, “I didn’t wake up”.

It takes a moment for Stiles to get what Derek is saying. To remember that Derek doesn’t sleep through ANYTHING. He’s too alert, too afraid of leaving himself vulnerable. Even asleep, Derek is the best guard dog there is (EVERY pun intended).

And yet.

They both stare, wide eyed, before Derek breaks out into this ridiculous grin, terrified and cautiously hopeful, causing Stiles’ heartbeat to increase by at LEAST a thousand beats per minute. Because that, right there? Yeah, that’s what he wants every Christmas, and every day in between, for the rest of his freakin’ LIFE.

There’s a ring he keeps stashed in an old box of pop tarts. He’s not ready to use it. Derek isn’t ready for him to use it. But it’s there and he’s giddy because one day, maybe next Christmas - or five from now - he and Derek are going to wake up together and Stiles is going to offer him that ring. Maybe that year Stiles will be the one covered in lights and tinsel and he’ll wake Derek up to the sound of that infuriating song from the 5th Harry Potter movie Derek pretends not to love with all his little werewolf heart.

“What?” Derek asks, despite looking at Stiles like he’s never seen him before.

“Nothing,” Stiles answers. “I’m just looking at everything, is all.” It’s revealing. A whole lot revealing. But he doesn’t care. He just doesn’t care.

Derek rolls his eyes, but he blushes, picking off the gingerbread man Stiles had artfully displayed on his chest. He looks like the sexiest, cutest human Christmas tree with bunny teeth that ever lived.

Waggling his eyebrows, Stiles throws a candy cane at his head and flees for the safety of the Christmas Eve fort they built last night.

He almost makes it before two arms have him by the waist and pull him back. Derek’s beard is still tacky from the white paint Stiles used to give him The Santa Look (what.) but he doesn’t mind, let’s Derek bury his face in his neck and do that Thing he does where he snuffles and sighs.

“More bed, breakfast later,” Derek says.

Stiles grins. “Yeah, later.” He reaches up and pets Derek’s hair. “Happy Birthday, big guy.”

“Merry Christmas, Stiles.”

5

Alice precious cupcake slash actual ray of sunshine Harvey: a true steward of science

25 Days of JAMMF, Day 25: Tumblr’s Choice

THE WAY JAMIE GAZES AT THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE & WIFE!!!!!!!

One of my all time favorite things about Jamie (and Sam’s portrayal) is the piercing, tender way that he looks at Claire. It is absolutely shattering.

His love for his bride is written all over his precious face.

I took upon myself the impossible task of selecting some of my favorite times we catch Jamie looking at Claire. Here is 40 of them 😍

THIS POST WILL MELT YER WEE HEART INTO A PUDDLE. YE BE FAIR WARNED:

“It has always been FOREVER for me, Sassenach.”

Tracing (Grayson x Reader)

Summary: Based off of THIS MASTERPIECE.
Word Count: 1,474
Warnings: None.
A/N: THANK YOU CASS for giving me this idea! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY. It’s 7am and I was about to go to sleep but y’all bet your sweet asses that I powered up my computer to write this. ENJOY. Also listen to this, because feels feels feels.


It had been quite an adventurous day for you and Grayson. It had started with you both waking up before the sun was even up, finding Ethan awake and alert in the kitchen - which had made you laugh. You had then decided on ordering some breakfast to go so you could drive to the beach, sitting on the sand while the sky turned orange as the sun peeked from the horizon. It was a peaceful moment, until the boys had decided that swimming in the freezing cold ocean was a good idea; Gray slinging you over your back, ignoring your protests as he rushed toward the sea, Ethan in town.

Then you had helped the guys with filming a new video, which consisted of them just tasing each other and acting like two children. It had made you laugh and you all had to shoot different takes, which took a while.

It wasn’t until midnight when Ethan had left you two alone, yawning like a little lion cub and complaining about being tired. You had shared a secretive smile with Grayson, knowing that he’d just shut himself inside his room and edit until the wee hours of the morning. But you kissed him on the cheek as goodnight, waving as he disappeared down the hallway to his room.

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~Guys, guuuys...

I’ve just learnt that Ben Affleck:

- has taught himself Arabic

- speaks Spanish and French too

- is so good at doing impressions that when he did one to Morgan Freeman, it was so accurate Freeman told him, “You ever do that again, I’ll kill you”

- won $356,000 by winning the California State Poker Championships in June 2004 - defeating some of the best poker players in the world in the process

- filmed four movies simultaneously in 2001: Pearl Harbor, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Changing Lanes, and The Sum of All Fears 

- began an intense two-hour a day workout regime the day after he was cast as Batman

- received a lifetime ban from playing blackjack at the Las Vegas&#146; Hard Rock Casino due to his ‘counting cards’ skills


Which tells me:

1. He’s fucking smart. I mean, he can pick up/learn languages pretty well (one of which is Arabic, Damian are you listening and he majored in Middle Eastern Affairs in college) and he is a boss at poker/blackjack.

2. He’s a workaholic. Look, I’ve never made a film (or even a short video) in my entire life, but he did 4 in one year at the same time and I bet he’s done similar workloads throughout his career. Also, see: two-hour a day workout regime for more evidence.

3. He can do good enough impressions to freak the fuck out of God™.


Ergo

= Ben Affleck is well on his way to being Ultimate Batman

All Hail the mighty Bat!

Originally posted by ageofsuperheroes

(edit: someone didn’t like my previous gif-use due to literal-Superman-bashing, and I agreed. Sorry, I didn’t see Supes little face on the wee gif-screen. Here’s some batfleck just being the best Bat he can)

ignore me creepy internet researching the fuck out of him to get my hands on this info. i needed it to defend myself from absolutely no one. fucking fight me

Coach

Summary: He always knew Dicky was different. Not bad different, just not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. A glimpse into the relationship of Coach and Bitty, and how Coach comes to terms with it all.  Also on AO3

Originally posted by harrimaniac27

“So, Dicky. Do you want to watch a movie?”

Coach was happy to have Dicky at home. His visits had become far and few between, a rare thing, ever since… well, recently. Suzanne was out with her bowling league, so it was just the two of them for the evening.

“Sure, Coach. What do you wanna see? I think Predator is about to start,” Bitty replied as he grabbed a bag of Brother Kane potato chips from the kitchen and settled into the couch.

He then took the remote and was browsing through the channel guide.

“Also Rocky III is on, uh… Casino. What else…”

Coach watched his son and smiled listening to the movie choices being offered to him.

He always knew Dicky was different.

Not bad different, just not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. When he was younger and the other coaches had their boys in pee wee leagues (already drilling the eye on the prize mentality into their heads: “One day you’ll be the star quarterback, son!”) he would look at Dicky and sigh knowing that wouldn’t be his son’s fate.

And he made peace with it, for Dicky was always kind, always helpful, always wore a smile on his face and a smudge of flour on his cheek.

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4

HOLY SHITBALLS x x

gotham rogues as scottish tweets
  • <p> <b>Harley Quinn:</b> realised how shite bein a girl is, spent half my life on a diet, bleeding or crying whilst boys just helicopter their nobs n call us psychos<p/><b>Scarecrow:</b> just seen a bird shoutin at her bairn to put his pants on then pointed at me sayin 'look the mans gonna steal ur willy' Wtf no am no<p/><b>Catwoman:</b> burd in the pub kept tellin everycunt her cat had thumbs n then we ended up in her gaff and shit u not that wee hing could beat u at Fifa<p/><b>Riddler:</b> a say "ano" a lot for somecunt that knows absolutely fuck all aboot anythin<p/><b>Two Face:</b> "huving one of they days" aye right man am huvin one of they lives<p/><b>Penguin:</b> aw a ever hink aboot is scran, swear tae fuck al be sittin eatin ma dinner n am hinkin what am i gonnae have after it<p/><b>Poison Ivy:</b> "u canny hate someone forever" aye a can watch me<p/><b>Joker:</b> reminder that JK Rowling a grown woman multi millionaire blocked me for calling her made up character in a book about wizards a specky cunt<p/><b>Mad Hatter:</b> im at the age where people r askin "so what u doin with ur life" n im like mate am genuinely jus here for a laff x<p/><b>Mr Freeze:</b> ye ever wanty just wrap yerself up in tinfoil nice and cosy and then just fucking get right inty the microwave and blow yersel up ta fuck<p/></p>