but somehow these are the ones that i like the most

anonymous asked:

Hi! This is maybe a bit random, but I'm genuinely confused how Harry's closet is seen by the fandom. It seems so much of the time that he's not allowed to be in the closet by the fandom, and he must be forced to be in the closet, or he isn't valid gay otherwise. People act like it's a crime or that he's "playing both sides" if he has a beard. Isn't it kind of normal for a celebrity in closet? There's this expectation for him to act differently from others in the same positition. I don't get it.

So I don’t actually know what most of the fandom thinks about Harry’s closet, or what the collective opinion is. I don’t even know if there is one. 

I do know that one of the really harmful trends I see here regarding closeting is that if Harry or Louis  are choosing to stay in the closet for whatever reason, they’re somehow less brave, less valid, less admirable. They’re bad, ashamed gays. Lots of people here can only justify their support of H and L if they imagine them as victims being forcibly closeted, who would come out in flurry of rainbow confetti if it weren’t for Machiavellian dictators keeping them chained. Attached to this idea is the dangerous, homophobic assumption that proud gays come out or want to come out, and ashamed gays who suffer from internalized homophobia stay in the closet or “self closet.” 

This is just NOT TRUE and the way people perpetuate this idea here is WHY I get regular anons from closeted LGBTQ teens asking me if something is wrong with them, if they’re a bad gay, if they should feel ashamed. It makes me sad so many people here equate CHOOSING to stay in the closet as something worthy of guilt or shame. 

Real life and real closets are way more complicated than that. There is no shame in choosing a closet. Also, celebrity closets are different that closets you or I might grapple with and I think people forget that. I agree, that his closet is not that unusual, it’s what’s to be expected for an artist who is not yet out. What is unusual is that he signals to his LGBTQ fanbase FROM the closet. I think this means some people feel “played” because they don’t understand the layers of nuance between being a fully, publicly out celebrity, and choosing to stay in the closet. They think signaling is closet knocking (it sometimes is but not always) and that closet knocking comes from a DESIRE to throw that door open, rather than just a quiet voice saying, “Hey, I’m here. Just like you.” They think closet knocking/signaling are preceding a coming out, but sometimes they’re just a form of communication. (See my signaling vs seeding post here). 

Here’s what I think: H and L don’t want to come out any time soon. They’re not planning on it and it’s not anything but a very, very long term goal. It just doesn’t seem like a priority for them, or a smart move to make in the natal stages of their solo careers. They still have numerous other shitty limitations surrounding their image and I I do think they have contractual obligations which are still in place, but. I think they COULD, (or Harry could, at least) have negotiated a coming out of some kind if they/he thought it would have actually helped him/been a sound business move or something that fell in line with his ultimate desire for privacy. I just think he chose not to argue that point, for now. 

I also think they’re NOT ASHAMED. They have no shame surrounding their relationship or their sexuality, which is why they have no problem signaling  from the closet/indicating to the fans who notice how fake and contrived the official narrative is. I think they’re proud, but private, and that they’re entitled to that and should be, given the whirlwind five years they lived through leading up to this point. 

I think they are choosing to stay in the closet at least for now. and that that choice has nothing to do with shame, internalized homophobia, etc. I also wish it wasn’t so controversial to say that? 

Okay here’s me writing one of those annoying call out posts, only I’m not going to be all like “SOMEBODY is irritating and SOMEBODY is this or that” – no no, this person knows who she is. 

If you weren’t an actual garbage can to my best friend - this post isn’t about you.

If you don’t literally stalk my best friend’s social media (and mine too looking for, I can only assume is more information about my best friend) - this post isn’t about you.

If you didn’t call my best friend names - this post isn’t about you.

If you didn’t somehow manage to make my best friend’s narrow escape from a mass shooting about yourself - this post isn’t about you.

If you aren’t the world’s most extra, increasingly toxic person that lives for negativity - this post isn’t about you.

Still with me everyone else? Good. 

Just enough, is enough already. Stop stalking my friend, stop freaking out at people who are just trying to live non-dramatic lives okay? Get ahold of yourself and try to move on. Or since you don’t care about my friend, maybe stop, y’know, following her every move. 

snapshotmaestro  asked:

Hi!! Thanks for your lovely blog :) I have a favor to ask: so I just watched The Breakfast Club last night and somehow I can't get a Merlin Breakfast Club AU out of my head. With like Arthur as the jock, Merlin as the basket case, and maybe Morgana as the princess, Gwaine as Bender? Have you heard of any Breakfast Club AU's?? Thanks!

Hiya! Thanks very much! :) The only one I could find was The Most Convenient Definitions

There’s also this one that’s a WIP that hasn’t been updated in a few years but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Sincerely, The Breakfast Club

to this day, i still wonder how exactly the production for the 2012 lorax really went down. there’s not much record about it, at least that i could find, but honestly, looking at the earlier concepts, you can see that it was originally intended to be pretty different than what ended up on screen.

which by itself it’s pretty normal, of course. movies often change greatly from their original concept during production, sometimes retaining only the most basic set-up of what once was, but what i truly mean is that we know for sure that the lorax was, at one point, a movie that seriously considered including a rock opera villain ballad such as this

yet somehow the song intended for this exact same sequence ended up being. well. this 

and i just want to know what was lost in the transition there because in my opinion, there is no way that the cutesy and sickeningly cheery lorax that we know could have even intended to include a song like the first one in it. this belongs to a very different movie.

feel good things:

  • watch sunrises. somehow, this makes me feel like the beginning of something new, the birth of my better, stronger self. watch the way the sun rises, because just like that, you will rise and shine, too.
  • sing your heart out. dance until you’re exhausted. make art until you run out paint. write out your feelings. indulge in your passion and do it like you’re doing it to impress yourself.
  • relive your favorite, happiest memory. it is one easy guaranteed effective way to make your heart, your soul, and even your lips smile. no bias.
  • rewatch your favorite film. grab some chips or a bucket of popcorn and have a marathon of your most-watched flicks. don’t hesitate to replay your favorite scenes if you feel the need to.
  • aspire and try to be kind, always. being kind on a daily basis is possibly one of the most exhausting and draining thing to ever do but i promise at the end of the day, before you go to sleep you will realize: it is worth it. always.
  • take a shower. scrub off your creeping self-doubts, smell nice, and bask yourself with self-love. take your time to ponder about your life inside the tub. this is the best time to reevaluate and relax.
  • be spontaneous even just for one day. drive away from the city. get a haircut. go on a coffee shop hopping. sketch random places. let your heart and your thoughts wander. let your soul soar and be free.
  • treat yourself. it does not necessarily have to be something enormous or expensive. it could just be a new set of brushes or getting a thrifted second-hand book or buying yourself some bouquet of fresh flowers. it’s not about the tags, it’s about the thought.
  • rekindle your love for a forgotten passion. nothing beats falling in love with something the second time around. touch your dusty piano keys, change your rusty violin strings, and once again (just like the old days), let your ardor dance in harmony.
  • take a nap. because sometimes, the best way to temporarily solve something, is to do nothing. yes, it is only ethical to give yourself a break from the overwhelming society. and yes, taking a nap most of the time makes everything better.
  • if you want to or feel the need to, cry. there is nothing wrong with doing something that is inherent. this does not prove that you are weak, it only proves that you are a human being capable of feeling things. so really, do not ever plan to hinder yourself from crying. it’s often times therapeutic.
  • do something that you have never done before. no more excuses. just because there is nothing more empowering and satisfying than crossing something out of your bucketlist.

When my grandparents were 13 queer was a whispered slur and it was unthinkable to be gay, let alone trans. It was just assumed you weren’t.

When my dad was 13 being gay was something you talked about behind closed doors. It was hilarious. It was frowned upon. My dad was assumed to be gay and somehow less of a man because he liked theatre.

When I was 13 I had just learned what it meant to be gay. I had just learned what transgender was. I was scared and lost. It felt like there was nothing for me. There was no proof I wasn’t alone.

My brother is turning 13 soon and he knows about most sexual orientations and has an older sibling that is out as trans/nb. He is openly against homophobia and talking about it with his friends isn’t taboo. He watches cartoons with background gay couples and thinks nothing of it. One of his favorite book characters is genderfluid.

We still have a long way to go, but I think you gotta admit, that is progress.

Patience yields focus.
I just... I just wanna talk about Matt Holt for a second.

This kid has been to hell and back. On his first mission into space ever he, along with his father and captain, gets abducted and basically tortured by a homicidal alien race. This boy has never left earth. Up until this point he didn’t even know that there was life outside of earth! So, he’s gotta come to terms with all that, and also with the fact that he is now a prisoner who will probably spend the rest of his now very short life at the mercy of these killers.

Then, he gets separated from his father and Shiro. Shiro saves his life and then he’s gone. His father is sent away and this kid is alone. Like really, truly alone. And from what we learn about him, he seems like a pretty independent, self-assured individual. But he’s got two parents, he’s got a little sister whom he’s really close to, I’m sure he had some close friends too. I don’t think Matt Holt has ever really been alone in his life. But then, suddenly, he is. 

But this kid, man. This kid makes it. He is resilient. Through a series of events, he is freed from his captors. And what does he do? He doesn’t run away, he doesn’t try to go back to earth. He doesn’t break down and let his experience overtake him. He joins a resistance group and fights. Not only does he fight, but he becomes a ranking officer! Like, he doesn’t know any of these aliens from a hole in the wall and they don’t know him. He owes them nothing. But somehow, he feels a duty to stand with them against the ones who took him away from everything he ever knew and everything he ever loved. 

So, he fought and he resisted and made some dangerous enemies. So dangerous, in fact, that it would seem he had to fake his own death and go off-grid so that he wouldn’t be found. Now, this kid is on an unknown planet scouring through transmissions that he can’t really understand hoping to find even hints of clues to defeat the enemy. He is alone once again, in every sense of the word.

This kid should be hard as stone at this point. But when the audience finally gets their first look at him. He’s happy. He’s cheerful. He praises his sister, he flirts with Allura, and he even makes a food pun!

You have a kid who’s been to hell and back. A kid who’s got literal scars from his demons. A kid who, out of all the characters, except maybe Shiro, has had the most traumatic experiences. And yet, he’s still so… bright. He still smiles, and laughs and jokes and appreciates things like how smart his sister is or how pretty a girl is. And I think that’s just pretty fucking amazing.

this last earthquake hit mexico city, puebla, morelos, mexico state, guerrero, oaxaca, even as far as veracruz, queretaro, jalisco… a big part of southern mexico. 140+ people have lost their lives. mexico city took the hardest hit because its foundation used to be a lake. 

i know it’s tempting but if your first reaction is “the world is ending” or “mother nature is really angry at us” or whatever, please keep it to yourself. it’s insensitive and disrespectful and particularly with the second one it sounds like you’re placing the blame on us/we’re being punished for something we’re not responsible for. the last thing people who have lost their homes, their families and their feeling of safety is to feel like it’s somehow their fault.

i can safely say this is the scariest earthquake i have ever lived through and it’s been one of the most emotionally exhausting days of my life. 

if you’re the praying type, keep us in your prayers. if you’re not, keep us in your thoughts. reblog donation posts or donate if you can, check up on your friends in southern mexico.

i just.. . can’t get over sign of the times. there is so much feeling in it - hope, desperation, strength, vulnerability, pain, love, bravery - and all of it is so palpable, i feel like i can taste it in the air while the song’s playing. he pulls you in at the very first note and tangles you into his soul with every note after that. the energy in his voice just. it washes over you, wave after wave, like an ocean of electricity and emotion. 

⇁plums & melons | 02

Originally posted by parkejimins

pairing⇁Jimin x Reader

genre⇁drama, smut || brother’s best friend!au

warnings⇁public indecency, masturbation, dry humping, jungkook, things that shouldn’t happen in a closet, a brief mention of tentacle porn;;

word count⇁7.1k

The long time running game between you and your brother’s best friend started when you noticed his fascination with boobs—yours specifically. It was never supposed to amount to more than harmless flirting and lingering glances, but now, one year later, Jimin was ready to change that.

alternatively: Jimin and you play a game. the loser is fucked. metaphorically. literally. all the above??

01 || 02 

Keep reading

Seven Things About Supernatural: 13x01 - “Lost And Found”

Oh hey.  The show’s back.  

Honestly.  This is mid-season or season-ender level crying happening.  And shit, I am so fucking here for it. 

  1. Jack is his father’s son.  Not Lucifer’s, despite his parentage, but Castiel’s.  He doesn’t understand, but he wants to.  He isn’t cruel, he isn’t violent.  He’s something that doesn’t fit.  Both of them want guidance from a missing father.  He even looks a bit like Cas, and the scenes in the police station – light bulbs exploding as he passes, being stabbed in the chest to no effect – are callbacks to Cas’ entrance in 4x01.   

    (He also takes after his uncle Gabriel, what with the Nougat thing.  And the t-shirt is kind of an awesome nod to what Dean “sees” in him – i.e. the son of Satan – via the horns.)

    But yeah.  He just wants his dad.  He was just looking for his dad.  I wonder who that sounds like…
  2. Miriam – aka drunk fries angel – was a highlight.  She’s merciless and damn good at her job, trailing the Winchesters to get intel while just sort of casually fucking with them.  She writes “BITCH” in the dust of Baby’s back window, and she’s brutal in her fight with Dean.  She knows how to make things hurt emotionally and physically, and makes decisions in the moment in ways that reminded me that I might have a very specific competence kink. 

    She reads Dean perfectly.  Anything?  Nope, Cas is dead.  You want your son safe?  Kill that guy and we’ll deal.  I’m gonna die?  Fine, but I’m taking a shot at the Nephil on the way out.

    She’s absolutely not a good person, but she’s a badass in ways that are satisfying as hell to watch.  Also, her actor – Carlena Britch – apparently did all of her own fight work.  (She also fractured her thumb filming with Jensen, so she’s a badass IRL.)
  3. She also conjures up the ghost of Becky Rosen.  Which…okay, I’m coming out of the text for a little bit on this one, because this was a thing that in the text is a little bit of a throwaway in the sense that we know how the angels feel about the Winchesters being a destabilizing, selfish force. 

    But the name Becky, that we’re supposed to hear.  And she uses it, over and over, so that if we miss it the first time, we’ll catch it.  And then she describes a really thoughtless, selfish person who breaks whatever she wants without concern for others in her own pursuit of satisfaction and amusement.

    Guys, I think Dabb might have called the disruptive, abusive edges of fandom out for their bullshit.  The ones who scream at the writers, the ones who kill the fun for other fans, the ones who are dicks at cons, etc.  And that’s…fascinating?  Because I know that Becky is a character a lot of folks have analyzed and tried to rehabilitate a little, even though she (and a lot of the fans portrayed in 5x09) are not a positive portrayal of fans in the same way some later portrayals are (e.g. 10x05).

    And if that’s what he’s doing, that only really exists inside that scene – because we probably aren’t supposed to self-identify this way via Dean after Miriam calls him a Becky – but…

    Anyway, it’s possible I’m projecting and seeing subtext where it’s not there, but I saw it the first time ‘round and in my morning rewatch and…yeah.  I can’t unsee it.   
  4. Dean’s prayer fucks me up something terrible.  

    “We’ve lost everything, and now you’re gonna bring him back.  Okay?  You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back mom.  You’re gonna bring ‘em all back.  All of ‘em.  Even Crowley.  ‘Cause after everything you’ve done, you owe us, you son of a bitch.  So you get your ass down here and you make this right, right here, right now.”

    This isn’t the first time he’s excused himself to the back of the building to try and contact an absent father, and gone unheard.  He knows how this goes.  You can see it in his face.  He tries to have faith.  He gets nothing.  

    Arguably, Dean’s quarrel with Chuck in 11x21 still stands.  Nothing has changed.  He’s still getting screwed over by a father’s willful absence.

    And then there’s this: 

    “We’ve lost everything, and now you’re gonna bring him back.  Okay?  You’re gonna bring back Cas…”

    He can’t even say that Cas is dead to Sam when they go looking for Jack, but he knows it.  He saw the wing prints.  Miriam taunted him with it.  He’s fucked-up about losing Mary yet again – evidenced by his nightmare after Jack knocks him out – but this is the loss hitting him the hardest.  It’s Cas’ body that’s his to prepare, his to burn.  

    You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back mom.  You’re gonna bring ‘em all back.  All of ‘em.  Even Crowley.

    (That’s not an echo of ”I love you.  I love all of you.”  Not at all.)

    “Well goodbye, Cas…”

  5. And hey, if Dean’s prayer didn’t fuck you up completely, Sam teaching Jack about funerals – Jack who is an orphan now, watching both of his parents burn – is there to cause the leak in your ceiling that will pour water on your face.  

    “You say thank you.  And you say you’re sorry.  You hope they’re somewhere without sadness, pain.  You hope they’re somewhere better.  You say goodbye.”

    Like, for all folks were complaining toward the end of Hellatus about who Sam is on the show of late – i.e. purely analytical, unfeeling – this ep was fantastic for centering him as this sort of mediating force who’s trying to work big picture despite the loss, trying to take all data into account.  

    And also trying not to die, because he was fucking terrified in that jail cell.

    Which hey, understandable.  And if we’re giving Miriam competence kink points for adusting on the fly, Sam earned his in bulk.  Plus, he totally headbutted an angel.  So hey.  Sam fucking Winchester.
  6. Actually, let’s just take a second to laugh about how scary Jack both is and isn’t.  Because he’s not doing most of the exotic, terrifying things on purpose.  He just does them when he’s scared.  And he knows almost nothing about his abilities, but he’s learning what he can as fast as he can after “growing up fast” as per his mother’s recommendation.  

    His sense of self seems kind of nebulous.  He “was” Kelly, though we don’t really know what he means by that exactly.  When he uses his powers he feels somehow disconnected from them.  

    And he gets hungry and the lights flicker we’re all like, “OH SHIT CLARK,” and then nope, he’s just magically stealing candy from the vendo.  And he feels really badly about frightening and hurting Clark and Sheriff Barker.

    He’s still figuring out shoes, y’all.  Shoes.
  7. So I can’t help but notice that Sam doesn’t share the Castiel-as-Jack’s-father bombshell with Dean.  Which, uh, I debated leaving as a bonus thing, or rolling into #5, but I think it’s significant enough to mention on its own, because this is a) kind of a big fucking deal with regard to understanding Jack, and b) kind of a serious fucking omission on Sam’s part. 

    Which…historically….well, Sam does that a lot.  And he usually has a reason, but it also usually has consequences, so batten down the hatches for that, I suppose.

Bonus Thing: Sheriff Barker is a gift.  I mean, she got the talk basically right out of the gate, and she advocates on behalf of people others call crazy or strange, and I kind of hope we see her again.  

Bonus Thing 2: Hey, are we still using Baby as a gauge for Dean’s wellbeing?  Because, uh…she needs some TLC.  

Bonus Thing 3: There is a moment during the Miriam v. Dean fight that is fucking amazing blink-and-you’ll-miss-it physical comedy.  He picks up a hat tree, she smashes the end off, then smashes it in half, and Dean does this cartoon panic and tosses the pieces up in the air.  

Like, seriously.  I need to learn to gif for moments like that. 

Bonus Thing 4: The universe screamed at Dagon’s death.  Presumably it did at Ramiel’s and Azazel’s, too?  Guess that’s how Asmodeus gets the memo…

Five Seconds (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: When you confessed to Richie, you got the expected response, but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less. Not even a week later he decides to talk to you, not so subtly jealous about you spending time with Ben. Things sort of…escalate from there.

Warnings: Cussing and Kissing. (oh no, not kissing! *parents screaming, children crying, Ohio catches on fire*) This is a request. DON’T HESITATE TO SEND IN REQUESTS. (Don’t send in like 50 tho. I still need sleep.)

Word Count: 1,697


“Can I t-talk to you.”

Richie stops laughing at Stan and, still giggling, turns to you. “Yeah, what’s up?”

You glance over Richie’s shoulder to see Beverly shoot you a thumbs up. “I’ve been, well- It was Beverly’s idea! But for a while now…” You stumbled over words, trying to soften the embarrassing blow of ‘I have a crush on you’.

“I like you!” You blurt, deciding to get it over with. “I l-like you as more than a friend.”

There’s a moment of silence in which you count the seconds that painfully tick by.

One. Richie’s mouth opens and closes, you can see his eyes dart to the other boys. They’re whooping and hollering, pushing him and giggling like idiots.

Two. You can feel the headrush hit you hard, along with waves of nausea.

Three. Teasing smiles stay on the boys’ faces, but Beverly’s melts off. She knows. She knows what’s going to happen.

Four. Richie’s ears turn fire hydrant red as you grow pale and faint. His eyes once again scan the boys, who continue to tease without mercy. You close your eyes, wishing they’d stop. There would be nothing to celebrate.

Five. “I’m s-sorry…”

He looks lost, twisting around in his seat on the log. The boys see that something’s wrong, thank god. It’s about to get very awkward.

“I-”

“Rich, c’mon…” You say, laughing lightly, as if the situation could be taken that way. You’re preparing to lie through your teeth, desperate to take it back. “It’s just a small t-thing. It’s not even a-a crush anymore! There, Bev, I said it? We’re all okay? All good?”

The air is thick and you can feel it, choking you. “(Name), I don’t- I don’t think of you-I just…” Richie stutters, only making the situation worse. “I don’t like you like that.”

Like that. He couldn’t even name what the feeling was. He was too grossed out to say it out loud, and that’s what stung the most.

“Richie, I was joking.” You state firmly. The sheer humiliation was enough to make a grown man cry, but not you. It was easier to be mad at him than at yourself. “I was completely kidding! But now you’ve made it weird. Thanks for that.”

“(Name)-”

“Richie, it’s fine!” You repeat, trying to convince yourself more than him. “Honestly, why are you making such a big deal out of this? Jesus…”

You get off the log and brush yourself off, walking over to your bike. Everyone’s eyes kept flicking from you to Richie like in a soccer watch. Even with your back turned, you could still feel their gazes, burning holes into your back. You turn towards them, mounting your bike.

“Guy really, stop acting like it’s such a big deal!” You say, throwing your hands up in defeat. They were still quiet. Mike looked at you with pity, Bill stared at the ground and Ben whistled lowly, thinking no one could hear him.

“Okay, you guys are making this weird. I’m out!” You call, beginning to pedal away. Don’t cry, you’ll make it worse, don’t cry, you won’t be able to stop. You repeat that in your head until it sticks, but it’s getting harder and harder to steer the bike as your eyes glaze over.

Just don’t talk to them for a while. It’ll be forgotten soon.


It wasn’t forgotten. Fuck. A couple days later, after avoiding leaving your house in fear of meeting Richie on the streets, your doorbell rang. You walked over to the door apprehensively, seeing Ben’s smiling face through the peephole.

“Hey…” You greet slowly, narrowing your eyes in suspicion and opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if you were okay.” Ben says sweetly, still standing on your porch. You suspected he didn’t come here to hang out inside your house. “We’ve been wondering how you’re doing.”

“I’m surviving.” You answer, noticing Ben’s own crestfallen aura. “A-are doing alright?”

“Yeah! I- well, Beverly…” He stops and shaked his head, forcing a smile. “Nevermind, I came to check up on you.”

“Wait, no. Don’t change the subject.” You say. “If you rant to me you’ll probably feel better.”

“She didn’t do anything-I don’t really wanna talk about it…”

“Oh…” You run a hand through your hair. “Well, since we’re both feeling shitty, let’s go out.”

Ben squints and tilts his head, confused. “Out where? Like on a date?”

“No, dumbass.” You chuckle. Leave it to Ben to make you feel better, no matter how shitty your day was. “Just… out. Y’know, the arcade. McDonald’s sounds good right now.”

Ben brightens and bounces on the heels of his shoes. “Yeah! That’s cool!”

You walk over to the coat rack and grab your black windbreaker, pulling it on. “Let’s go get fucked over by junkfood.”


You observed the cafeteria, dreading when Richie would come and sit down at your usual table. He was walking from the lunch line in slow motion, your brain going fuzzy with panic. You stared down at your food, refusing to look up again.

“Can I talk to you.”

You nearly snorted. Nearly. Those were the exact words you said to him the day you confessed, and the irony was killing you. Well, you wished the irony killed you; it’d be less embarrassing then. You didn’t look at him but kept picking at your food, intent on ignoring your problems.

“I, uh, saw you and Ben last Friday.” He says, sitting down next to you. “So are you and him-y’know…a thing now?”

You look up at him only to glare. “I’m just asking because I’d like to know, is all.” He quickly corrects himself. Damn. Richie Tozier is tongue tied for the second time this week. That must be a record. “To l-leave you guys alone when you-when you need it.”

“Ben and I were hanging out, yeah.” You say blankly, your face dropping to an unreadable expression. “Why do you care?”

“Because… Because I don’t think you and him look good together.” He says quickly, scowling at Ben, who was standing in the lunch line and looking innocent as ever. “Personality differences and other shit.”

You still stare at him through half lidded eyes, not amused at all. “Why. Do. You. Care.”

“God-I don’t know!” Richie exclaims. “I just think that maybe, you’d tell me if you were dating anyone.”

“Ben and I aren’t dating.” You say cooly, although your temper was rising steadily. “None of your business who I’m dating anyway, ‘cuz you don’t think of me that way, remember?

“I just-”

“No Richie, you don’t get to answer that!” You cry out, earning weird looks from nearby kids. “You’re the one who rejected me!”

“I was scared!” He says. “You asked me to say something back in front of Bev and Mike and Eddie-”

“If you can’t admit that you like me in front of our friends,” You say stiffly, more and more irritated. “Then you don’t actually like me. Which you don’t! You don’t like me, and you’ve made that clear.”

Richie looks at you incredulously, like what you just said was some sort of crime and suddenly stands up on the tables bench.

You panic even more, pulling at his pant leg, begging him to sit down. “Richie get off! What the hell are you even doing?”

“Hey you losers, I like (Name)!” He yells over the cafeteria’s loud chatter, drawing even more attention. By now, more than half the cafeteria was staring at you and him. To your horror, everyone quiets down, listening to what the weird kid has to say.

“I like (Full Name) and everyone should know!” He shouts again, cupping his hands to use as a megaphone. “And I was an idiot and a dumbass not to tell her, but here I am now!”

You hide your face in your hands, turning the color of a ripe strawberry.

“So yeah,” Richie announces. “For once in my life I’m done caring about what you assholes think! She’s perfect and smart and nice and sarcastic and I think I love her!”

Finished with his big speech, he plops back down, red in the face and panting slightly from yelling. A shocked silence lasts as Richie counts the seconds, waiting for you.

One. You look at him through your fingers, mortified and overjoyed at the same time.

Two. Slowly, what he just did registers in your mind. He just humiliated himself in front of the entire cafeteria. For you.

Three. Your chest feels so hot it physically hurts, ready to explode with admiration and disbelief at this stupid boy.

Four. Richie waits patiently for your reaction, crossing his fingers under the table.

Five. “Y-you fucking dick!” You say, punching him in the arm. “That was-what was that?

“I’m not scared to tell anyone I like you.” Richie says, rubbing his sore arms with a sheepish grin plastered on his face. “You said that if I’m too scared to tell anyone I like you then it’s not true, so I just told the whole school.”

“I-you fucking-what the-argh!” You give up on scolding and grab the back of his neck, your lips colliding with his. Richie reacts almost immediately, holding your face in his hands so gently your heart exploded for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. You tilted your head to the side and weave your fingers through the curls on the back of his neck, only coming up when you were dying for air.

You see Beverly absolutely beaming in her place at the lunch line, Ben clapping rapidly, Eddie getting a book out of his bag, probably to check if kissing could transmit serious diseases. Bill was smirking and Mike slapped money into Stan’s hand.

“They’re never going to forget this, are they?” Richie asks, flashing Stan a quick middle finger.

“Most likely not.”

Richie watches the terrible cafeteria light reflect off your cheekbones, somehow giving your face an almost angelic look, like something that is too good to belong in a town like this. Your eyes are brighter than usual and filled with childish laughter, this time not because of the cheap blinding lights, and Richie had to wonder if this was more than just a dumb school crush.  

“Good.”


A Few Thoughts on Who Killed Markiplier

It is safe to say the WKM project has taken the fanbase by storm, and can be written in the books as a grand success. The hard work, and dedication, of the Teamiplier crew shines brilliantly from start to finish. Indeed, I found myself bouncing theories off of closest friends (who had not even heard of Markiplier until this point), and even dreamed up possible solutions to the amazingly written whodunit. Never in my wildest dreams, however, could I have come up with a conclusion so heart wrenching and astounding as the one gifted to us in Chapter Four.

Yet I have witnessed an amazing transformation within the community. A love has been born that transcends the normal infatuation of a celebrity, and it is beautiful. What is it about this project that seems to have tipped the Markiplier community onto its emotional side?

Two two-dimensional characters that began as a joke, as an interesting concept, as meaningless characters, suddenly became very three-dimensional. They became very real, very relatable, more plausible… and terrifyingly enough, more human. The community has been forced to reexamine the world around them.

Wilford Warstache, a sociopathic killer with no regard for consequences, or for human life. He takes an almost flippant response to death, and feels no remorse for the people he kills. He claims it is not his fault when people die, that he was only doing what people ask him to do. Yet through WKM, we see a new perspective.

Though not entirely sane, we see a man who loves life and adventure. He is compassionate, though it is hard to tell at times. He’s made many mistakes, including an affair, but only begins to hate Mark after he felt he’d been betrayed. Even then, Damien describes his disregard for Mark’s death as a form of “shock”, indication he is familiar with the Colonel shutting down like this in response to tragedy. Speaking of which, if he is a Colonel, we can assume he is military. Chances are he has also been to war. This would explain his tendency to shut down in the face of death, as there is no telling how many brothers and sisters in arms he’s seen lay dying. War is hell, after all. He is a soldier, so he understands loyalty and trust better than anyone. His moves are calculated and filled with cunning. It would also explain his tendency to slip in and out of a room without anyone noticing. Military training. It’s also one of the reasons he is such a successful hunter. Clearly, however, he loves Damien, and he loves Celine, and he’s very loyal to them. Upon their death, and realizing that he’s also killed us, he loses the military stance. He loses his tightly wound composure, and we are left with…

…A man who is so lost, so confused, so scared that he clutches tightly to the cane of his friend. Until we return, he is completely alone. Everyone else has abandoned him, or has died. His guilt is crippling him, his sanity is cracking right before our eyes as he slowly descends into madness. This is a man who has been surrounded by tragedy his entire life.  When we wake up, he is relieved. Somehow we managed to come back from death, which means the others must have as well. This is all a joke, a prank, because the idea of his friends playing such a cruel joke on him is easier to comprehend than their death. His mind, after repeated trauma, is reduced to that of a broken child who is screaming and crying for answers he’ll never get. His sanity is shattered, and he’s driven mad. No doubt he is reliving all the terrible deaths he’s witnessed, and trapped in this hell, Wilford Warfstache is born. He is the broken soldier.

And then there’s this man:

This character was, initially, a joke within the community. When he first manifested, the community wrote him off as being an evil, power hungry, and manipulative man who only wanted to take control. He was jealous of mark’s fame, and wanted to use the love of his fans against him. Yet…

We learn in WKM that Damien is actually the most kind hearted person in the entire group. He feels Mark’s death deeply, but even in the face of his own sorrow, he delivers the news of Mark’s death to William himself. When William does not respond in a way Damien believes he should, he becomes angry. This is not anger borne of hatred, but borne of disappointment in his friend, and his own sadness and pain. He cares. He cares almost too much, as the events seem to constantly be tearing him apart. He carries the cane with him, and is seen constantly wringing it in his hands when he gets nervous, uncomfortable, or emotional. Not wanting to appear weak, he isolates himself, yet returns when something new occurs to make sure everyone is safe. As angry as he is at William, he checks up on him and keeps tabs on him to make sure he’s okay. He tries to protect Celine, even at the cost of his own life.

And what a loss of life that was. Betrayed by a man he’s known since childhood, cast aside into a broken shell and forgotten…

No…. This is not a man fueled by jealousy. This is not a man keen on stealing the attention away from Mark for his own selfish needs. This is a man who loved too much, cared too deeply, and now sports a shattered heart. We see him shift from kind, compassionate Damien to the man we now know as Darkiplier, and we see the raw emotions in his eyes.

He. Still. Cares.

He is still the protector. He is still the leader. He still loves, and cares, but he does not trust.

Perhaps this is why he acts the way he does, to keep people away from Mark to make sure no one meets a similar fate as those who loved Mark in the past.

The very last scene we are left staring into a broken mirror. It is shattered, the image distorted, the world still discolored. Even with Damien, now Dark, gone, the world has not shifted back to normal. We are left to reflect on our fate. Our world.

                                               Our new hell.

Our own humanity.

We relate to these characters so much because we understand them. We have experienced loss. We’ve experienced betrayal. We understand their pain. We feel for them so deeply because we understand their loss, and their feelings of being lost. Perhaps we even understand the feeling of sanity slipping through our fingertips, or the dark and enticing pull of revenge.

We watched them descend into madness, and realized how possible it is for us all to do the same. Anyone can. It forces us to question…. Those people that society has labeled “evil”, what did they experience to get them to that point? Did they love too much, and had their hearts broken? Were they cast aside, their shell’s broken, and forgotten? Those that society has marked insane who go on to commit terrible crimes, what traumas pushed them to that point? Were they sane before, and simply snapped?

We see the world differently now, our perspectives forever altered. Truthfully, I found the entire experience exciting, and humbling. I believe this is why the Who Killed Markiplier project struck a chord so deeply in all of us.

@markiplier thank you for bringing this into our lives.

— ask and you shall receive | pt 4—final (m)

pairing— jung hoseok x reader, sugar daddy! hoseok
genre/warnings— angst, romance, fluff, smut
words—9,405

:: summary— it’s been a couple of months since you and your sugar daddy changed your arrangement and while all has been well, practically floating on cloud 9, something is about to happen that will drop kick you back into reality…

  » pt 1 :: pt 2 :: pt 3 :: pt 4  ✓

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the end. [ damien x reader ]

summary: the reader and damien were lovers before WKM. they still care about eachother even after the events of WKM

warnings: angst and spoilersTM

a/n: needed to get this out my system bc i’m still crying

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

Gray. A whole world of nothing but gray tones and colors, a vast emptiness that has no start or finish…That is what you see, or at least what you think you see. The first time you had been here was right after being shot, faced with a dilemma whether to live on as a…being or die as yourself. Putting your trust into the wrong people had driven you to the first option. That day there was darkness all around you. Now it’s all simply gray. The surface of this place is wet, calm streams of water rush by your feet, but why or to where you have no clue. Gray. Time passes neither fast nor slow, you cannot dream or eat or do anything but exist and feel certain things. Only strong emotions though, the ones that are powerful enough to break the shell of indifference that constantly surrounds you. Those emotions flash in bright violent colors, namely blue and red, representing of the two other people stuck here with you. Celine and…Damien.

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I dreamt of you again last night, imagining how it felt for your lips to brush against mine, my arms steadily wrapped around your waist and I don’t know how to-
Erase the slow dancing in the candelight, I want to hold onto the feeling that this will-
Last time I held you feels like much too long ago and I know, I know it’s not a good idea to go back in-
Time is on a constant loop. It never ends. It’s the seconds ticking by and the-
Minute fractions of life slipping in front of our very-
I want things to go back to the way they were. I’ve been walking in a daze, slipping in and out of consciousness, unsure whether the memories residing in my mind are those taken from reality; past-
Tense: stretched tight or rigid. Like the way our conversations became. Short and clipped. Careful consideration of each word, an active attempt to prevent any blurring of the lines, that nothing could be misconstrued in any light-
Hearted chuckles and sighs that took up most of our late night conversations were one of my favourite things to do. Talking until either one of us became much too tired to type out a syllable and we’d fall asleep almost instantly, I don’t know about you but I held my phone so tightly on the nights you didn’t stay, so as to reach out and touch you someplace else-
Where do memories go when you want to move on?
How can you move on with the memories still etched deep into the back of your mind, the good, the bad and the ugly.
I’m stuck. Like a broken record, looping around on repeat, skipping past some of the words in the song, and going back to the start. A false hope that you will somehow loop around and make your way back to me.
—  dejalex 
Limits

So this short one shot is a combination of a venting piece, and something that was inspired because @solbabydraws always makes me want to draw Percy Jackson stuff. It feels like sometimes people in the fandom (Not Solbaby! Just other writers I’ve read) and people in general seem to forget that Percy (And pretty much all guys, trust me) also appreciate kind words and can be sensitive. It’s okay to not always be tough folks, and that’s coming from a guy who gets through most of his problems by just toughing it out. We all need to hear kind words sometimes. Sometimes teasing can get to people, even if it’s light hearted. (It’s certainly getting old for me at work sometimes…) Ironically this is also released on MentalHealthAwareness day so there’s that too. Anyway, sorry for the mini rant, enjoy!

XxXxXxXxX

Glaring at his pencil, Percy wondered how mad Annabeth would be if he snapped her mechanical pencil in half. Knowing her however, he figured it wouldn’t be worth the scowl and bickering for a few seconds of tension relief.

Setting down the pencil onto his “extra homework” he dropped his head onto the table to avoid the temptation of causing property damage for Annabeth. If he wasn’t so utterly in love with Annabeth, there was no way he would be doing extra homework during their summer vacation. Not even the gods could have convinced him of this task.

They were preparing to finish their senior year, then go to college together. However, Annabeth had warned that Percy needed to be on top of the ball to ensure there were no academic problems that could interfere. Of course, Percy had already used up all his strikes, and them some, so it was really down to the line. Annabeth had been helping him, and promised to make it up to him later for studying so hard now.

Of course Annabeth had been the best studying partner. Bringing him snacks occasionally, explaining things in her wonderful confident, yet patient tone. Not to mention the brief study breaks that usually ended out in make-out sessions.

Annabeth had some other tasks to attend to for the day, leaving Percy to study and work on the next section of the workbook on his own. Promising to bring him a treat when she was free later, she had the utmost confidence in her boyfriend that he could finish the work.

Percy had also been pretty confident that he could do it alone. At least until his day had decided to spiral progressively downwards. Raising his head slightly, he let it drop with a soft thud on the table. Repeating the action, he thought back to what had started this hellish day.

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morning - t.h.

word count: 1.2k

summary: a glimpse at mornings with boyfriend!tom

a/n: i got a little too happy at the thought of tom being back in england this weekend and my mind started to wander. 

let me know if you enjoy this here, since i might turn it into a mini-series, and i may even write a prequel to this part.


The fresh white covers were soft under your fingertips as you stirred. The morning sunshine was threatening to pour into the room through the thin curtains of Tom’s childhood bedroom, the curtains that he hated so dearly and told you so each time you visited.

You shuffled, drawing your head up to look around the room. Remnants of the night before were littered around, like his duffle bag that he always travelled with, flung on the chair that sat in the corner, and his passport tossed lazily on the nightstand, and both yours and Tom’s clothes in crumpled piles at the foot of the bed, a hint at the haste you both shared last night to be back in each other’s arms.

At your movement, Tom stirred and tangled his legs around yours beneath the sheets, and you wrapped an arm over his bare chest, his warmth radiating on to you. You traced your fingertips back and forth across his slightly bronzed skin, the only remainder of his summer days spent in America, rather than here with you.

You didn’t mind the days when he was gone too much. Of course, it was no picnic to live without your boyfriend by your side, or even in the same country, for weeks at a time. But the days apart only made your time together all the more special when he could come back, made you hold the moments that you could share a little closer to your heart.

Watching him sleep made you feel as though he never left you, and laying there examining each of his peaceful features made you realise how much you loved him that little bit more each day. Even his flaws, even the dints and scars scattered across his cheeks, even the imperfections that the rest of the world saw, seemed perfect to you.

You didn’t want to disturb him further than you already had, but you couldn’t help yourself from reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Though shorter than the curls that you had come to know and love, you had grown to quite like this new hairstyle on him. His hair felt soft and fluffy between your fingers, and you assumed that he probably washed it before his flight yesterday morning.

Leaning closer, you could smell his naturally soapy scent, the cologne he’d worn the day before only lingering a little now. You brushed his cheek with your thumb as he started to wake a little more, and Tom hummed as you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his face.

Rolling into you, his lips met yours in a sleepy embrace, his strong arms curling around your back, his fingers splayed wide to hold you close to him. Of all the moments in Tom’s life that he cherished, of all the escapades his fame brought him, mornings like this with you were his favourite. Holding you in his arms, feeling the steady beat of your heart against his, staring into your eyes and sharing lazy kisses. This was by far the most magical of moments to him.

“Mornin’ love, sleep well?” He mumbled, brushing your hair from your face, a sleepy smile spread across his lips.

You only nodded, returning his grin before you pressed your head on his chest to rest it, pulling the covers up to your chin. You sighed, feeling utterly content, until a small knock at the door interrupted the comfortable silence.

“Come in,” Tom’s chest vibrated as he spoke, and the door was softly pushed open. Tessa came bounding in, ecstatic to see you again, and Sam poked his head around the door.

“Sorry, but uh— mum said to remind you that we need to get going soon…” Sam seemed unsure of how to position himself, feeling a little awkward that he had to be the one to ruin this perfect moment.

He pulled the door back, leaving Tessa to curl up in your lap. Tom groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly, sliding out of bed beside you, and as you scratched behind Tessa’s ears, you sighed.

“Why d’ya have to go again so soon,” you pouted at your boyfriend, watching him pull a pair of boxers from his drawers to slide them on, before doing the same with some socks.

You couldn’t see Tom’s face, but you watched his shoulders rise and fall, and if he had been facing you, you would’ve seen the pained expression he wore before he turned to you.

“It’s just not fair, those stupid producers and directors get you for weeks at a time and I get you for one stinking day!” You knew you shouldn’t complain; Tom always did his best to keep both you and his work equal.

Tessa jumped down and nudged the door open to escape, so you sat up and pulled the covers around your chest, blinking at Tom in the half-lit bedroom. You rested your head on your shoulder, watching him innocently as he gathered last night’s clothes from the floor. After he had shoved them into his bag, you snatched it from him playfully.

“You can’t leave me if you don’t have your clothes,” you dropped it to the floor on your side of the bed and Tom reached out, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Darling, I’d still have to leave, but I’d have to leave like this,” he gestured down to his body, wearing only his boxers and some socks.

“I happen to think that’s quite a good look on you,” you giggled, biting your thumb as he bent a knee on to the bed, crawling towards you.

“Well you would,” he smirked, his legs straddled either side of your hips before he leant down to kiss you softly, his lips moving gently with yours.

The longer the kiss continued, the more intense it got. Tom’s hands began to wander, tracing every inch of your chest, his tongue dipping into your mouth. When you felt him groan above you, you knew it was time to pull away.

You hummed in contentment, staring up into your boyfriend’s deep brown eyes, your arms around his neck as your fingertips played lightly with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Baby, we don’t have time for that, you have a plane to catch,” your hand came down to run along his collarbone.

“One second you don’t want me to leave, the next you’re knocking me back, ouch,” Tom chuckled and lifted one hand that he had been using to balance himself above you, to cup your cheek lightly. “Think you can wait for me until next time?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

“I’m sure I’ll manage somehow,” you laughed and he leant over to take his bag from your side of the bed.

Tom stayed straddled across your hips, a smile still lingering as he looked down at you. “Y’know, I think you somehow get more and more beautiful every time I come back to you.” 

You blushed at his words as he scattered kisses across your cheeks, on your nose, and finally on your lips.

“Shut up smelly,” you slapped his chest playfully, “and go take a shower, you actually do stink.”

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