chasing-people

house obviously loves vegas and takes pride in what he’s done with it. when you talk to him, he’ll say he’s resurrected not only the city itself but the spirit of the city, but that doesn’t feel right. the way he went about ‘rekindling’ vegas is so ridiculously sterilised and controlled that it’s almost unnatural. you can say something about how he’s still stuck on the past, and that’s right and all, but part of me wonders if he even really remembers vegas for what it actually was. it feels more like he’s working to recreate some weird, controlled, idealised version of vegas based on rosy 200+ year old memories – a well-to-do and sparkling jewel in the desert, where people chase their dreams with liquor and blow on dice for luck.

it goes past the strict control of who is allowed onto the strip. house went so far as recruit the omertas while well aware they were monstrous human beings, primary because they reminded him of the crime aspect of vegas prior to the war. he deliberately included and accounted for every aspect of vegas.

oh but i love so easily. i want to be an enigma, or cool and collected, or mysterious and lovely. instead i blurt out information you don’t care about, tell stories that last too long, declare my passions. i gush and trust and wish too hard. i chase people away because i like them too much, i chase people away because i don’t like people very easily. i accidentally mention things like my mental illness and am somehow surprised that people are uncomfortable around me. i’m trying to get better. i’m trying.

There will come a time when all you’ll feel is sheer exhaustion – you’ll want to stop chasing people who have no time for you, and you’ll wish back every second you’ve wasted on the wrong things. Do you know how tiring it is to be treated like a doormat? To be treated like you don’t matter, to be told that you’re not good enough? That you’re too available, or even too kind?

It is a tiring thing to be so unloved.

—  highfalutinman  - Unspoken Conversations

i still get upset about robin williams. he was very little to me; meant more to my brother, spoke the best lines in my favorite movies, was a stunning actor. but i, in my head, never paid much attention to things like fame, and loved him like a distant uncle, but distant indeed. i can’t watch those movies the same way. i think about what was chasing him, what was chasing me.

some people tell me they won’t be missed. their lives are not sparks but dull, the regular, the forgettable. that their absence would be a small celebration, that when they left the burden would evaporate and somebody else, somebody better, would spill in waves to fill the empty space. that the forgettable get forgot, that the unexceptional are only spared half of a thought.

but i love the man who let me turn left at a busy intersection even though he had right of way today and i’m still thinking about him. i’m still thinking about the teenage girl i taught four years ago who was spiraling, who came to me and whispered she wasn’t planning on an eighteenth year - who was out of my hands, who was “taken care of” who i tried my hardest for and who still disappeared like smoke in the air. i still think about the girl in my dance class who, when we were both seven, taught me the magic potion of fingers and throats, who kept a secret, who reached out to me just once later to say, “remember when we were young and i was unafraid” and i said yes, we threw barbie heads at the ceiling, and she said, “i’m calling from inpatient. i never forgot that you were my friend. thank you for that. that’s it. the end.”

and at night i tell myself the names of others or i pass their features over my eyes. i think about how our dreams can’t make up faces and how each night like a litany i bring back people to fill in seats, and how some of these people are dead, and how i wake up and barely know them and still miss them. and i tell myself that with all this love i have in a bucket that if i dropped into the sky and took off with myself and painted myself into the ground - i say i’m mediocre. i couldn’t bear it if someone else went off but if i did that’s just fine. the world needs less poets. the world needs less open mouths. the world needs less of me and more people who can function properly. 

and i know you’re reading this and most likely you’ve felt the same thing. that everybody has a life that’s precious unless it’s you, and your untalented unproductive unhelpful self, with heavy hands and a little too much rust in the places that should shine. so here’s the deal. i’ll make a promise and if you keep yours, i’ll keep mine.

if you won’t die, then i won’t die. and we two can live in distant orbits around each other, admiring each other like the other is robin williams, planets that never speak, only listen, two stars with our own complicated galaxies we feel swallowed by - but if you won’t die, then i won’t die.

and if you keep yours, i’ll keep mine. and we’ll remember each other. and we’ll fill up the sky.

Don’t chase people. Be yourself, do your own thing and work hard. The right people - the ones who really belong in your life - will come to your. And stay.
—  Will Smith
Okay but for the final season I want it to be parallel to the first season like:
  • Like Pidge is messing with her tech or something and Hunk instead of him poking at her equipment he actually asks for permission
  • Lance and Hunk do some sneaking just like the one from the first episode at the garrison
  • They think Keith is dead from an explosion or something. At some point Lance starts laughing
    • “It’s Keith I see him!!”
    • “wait are you sure buddy?!?!”
    • “Yea i’d recognize that mullet anywhere”
  • Allura does some badass magic shit and she gets drained and falls into lance’s arms. Allura forgets where she is for a second and Lance says the same thing he did when they first met but now is crying and has a wobbly smile because holy shit it’s his found sister and he almost lost her.
  • Shiro and Keith have their brotherly talk and Shiro tells Keith not to worry because everything will be alright
    • something does happen and its actually shiro who’s freaking out and keith calmly tells him “Someone I look up to always tells me: Patience yields focus”
  • When they get back to Earth, Lance and Coran have a similar talk from the first season but instead of talking about what they miss about their homes, they talk about what they miss about space
    • they also talk about things to do now that they’re on Earth like going to the beach, seeing the rain, etc.
  • “They call me the Tailor because of how I thread the needle”
  • They’re all training and making the laser gun noises
  • BONDING MOMENT 2.0
  • Lance getting to see his family again and when he hugs his mom he just cries and whispers “I just really missed your hugs”
  • Garrison people are chasing them and they have the same scene with the hover bike
  • Keith looking at all the evidence he has in the shack and tells shiro how he could find him all because of it
  • Hunk and Shay stare at the sunset after the war ends
  • “Saviors of the universe….I like that” with the camera zooming out as they stare at the sunset on the beach.

(if any of you have anything else please add on!!)

Why he cheated

Aries: You couldn’t keep up with him.

Taurus: You weren’t passionate, and real enough. 

Gemini: You didn’t satisfy both twins.

Cancer: You didn’t give them your undivided attention.

Leo: You didn’t make them feel special enough.

Virgo: You weren’t the epitome of perfection.

Libra: You didn’t want to hike, and sky dive with them like they wanted.

Scorpio: You weren’t exotic enough.

Sagittarius: Its not you its them. They need constant change.

Capricorn: You aren’t classy, and passionate enough.

Aquarius: You aren’t the chase anymore.

Pisces: Too many people like you, and they want you to themselves.

Issues with stolen gemsonas & artwork

Hi gemsona fandom! Long time no see, hope you enjoyed the “Wanted” special and got some new ideas from seeing Homeworld!

Recently people close to me and I have had a lot of issues with our gemsonas and artwork being stolen, mainly by RP accounts on instagram and tumblr. It seems like a no-brainer but I guess it’s worth repeating:

  • Do NOT use someone’s gemsona/OC on roleplay accounts without express permission from the creator. Make your own character!! Gemsonas are often self-inserts, taking them is very personally intrusive and feels gross, man. Taking the character to roleplay is even worse- you’re misrepresenting them, changing their personality and using them to gain followers and fandom reputation. That’s a whole ‘nother level of theft.
  • Do NOT use someone’s artwork for blog art, icons, or any other personal/aesthetic use without express permission from the creator. Some artists are nice enough to allow this if you ask, but some art is personal and not meant to be used! ASK THEM FIRST.
  • DO NOT REPOST ARTWORK ON INSTAGRAM, TUMBLR, PINTEREST, OR ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION FROM THE ARTIST!!!!!
  • Reposting or using artwork IS NOT okay just because you actually credited the artist. YOU NEED PERMISSION TO POST FIRST AND FOREMOST.

Just because an artist isn’t active in the gemsona fandom doesn’t mean their OC is up for grabs or any less their creation

Please reblog this (especially rp blogs!) and let younger people in the fandom know that this isn’t okay. Stop reposting art and taking other people’s OCs. Don’t interact with RP accounts with stolen OCs/art. Protect artists in your community!! Report them!!

It’s really unfortunate, situations like this make artists and creators want to take down drawings, stop posting their OCs and leave fandoms after experiences like this..

-ore

We Got Married (M)

Originally posted by kthmyg

8.8k words. Arranged Marriage AU. Min Yoongi.

Warning: Fingering. Phone sex. ft Kim Namjoon.


It’s hilarious, laughable, pathetic even, how love could either build you or ruin you and yet knowing this, people still chase after it like the rise of golden light beyond the horizon, or the last drop of dew in twilight, or the flutter of that one coral blue butterflies in buttercup paved meadow.

It’s frightening, daunting, startling even, how love makes your hands clammy like you’re being interviewed by the very man who founded the big shot company you’ve applied to.

And it’s utterly, impossibly, unbelievable how love comes in many ways like a bump and a spill of coffee on crisp white shirt, or a brush of hands upon a dusty leather brown book spine or an envelope obtained from a mailbox on one’s way back from grocery shopping.

Well, that’s exactly what’s happening to Min Yoongi, second son to one of the well-known elite families in Seoul. Most of the time, he couldn’t care less about family matters; business deals, dinner with alien faces and empty conversations─ those things he’s entitled to attend with mildly bored eyes and champagne he’ll never finish in one hand. But this particular matter, he can’t just not care. One, because it directly concerns him (as if the cursive letter of his name engraved in bold black against crisp white isn’t enough indication). Two, because it’s from a certain someone in his family who he’s fond of.

Dear Yoongi,

Is written on the top of the not so neat written paper.

Son,

I know you might hate me for this.

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