could have been better buy anyway

TYPES OF EXO FANBOYS (OT12)

sorry for the late post, anon! i was really busy with real life affairs, etc etc more excuses. i hope i did it well for you ^^ — jia jia


baekhyun fanboys:

  • probably both baffled and intrigued by his eyeliner skills
  • either borrowed/bought eyeliner and looked hOT AF and they know it so you better appreciate
  • screeching
  • probably the type of people to make a shrine out of their dead fingernails 

chanyeol fanboys:

  • remember that guy that screamed “cHANYEOL I LOVE YOU” in front of chanyeol at some convention or whatever???
  • weLL THEY ALL DO THAT AND WILL GET CHANYEOL’S APPROVAL
  • showing off to their girlfriends that they have concert tickets and they don’t
  • braggggggging

jongdae fanboys:

  • literally jongdae’s doppelgangers
  • obsessed but won’t show it unless you’re as insane as them
  • probably have a shrine to jongdae’s dick beauty in their basement and when you come over they struggle to hide it
  • cute

kyungsoo fanboys:

  • extremely protective
  • you see kyungsoo’s fangirls as protective but wait till u see kyungsoo fanboys becAUSE THEY ARE ACTUALLY HOLY
  • actually really fluffy
  • the type of people to buy merch for their girlfriend but then steal it back

jongin fanboys:

  • really thirsty
  • like they don’t dream about his dick as much as the girls or maybe they do i don’t know but they do imagine going out to the bar with him
  • jONGIN IS A PERFECT HUMAN BEING
  • also call jongin “oppa”

kris fanboys:

  • fucking cool people
  • actually pretty normal to hang around until you bring up the fact that they literally changed their aesthetic in a day
  • have tumblr and will update you
  • chill

yixing fanboys:

  • really cute
  • will fucking steal yixing endorsement cardboard figures because YOU MIGHT NEVER GET THE OPPORTUNITY AGAIN (jia jia doesn’t blame them b/c she literally asked nature republic if she could buy the cardboard they said no)
  • sUPPORT ZHANG YIXING AOIFIARW9E89ERHU
  • almost identical behavior to the girls

luhan fanboys:

  • have been here forever
  • probably have read a fanfic where they go out with female luhan and it’s just so sweet
  • their gf better look like lu
  • supportive

sehun fanboys:

  • i ! n ! s ! a ! n ! e !
  • “oH SEHUN IS MY HOLY ANGEL AND ALSO MY SEX MACHINE AND Y’ALL CHEAP ASS HOES BETTER SUPPORT HIM—”
  • fucking devoted af
  • pissed every 0.2 seconds

junmyeon fanboys:

  • either conservative or will devote their body to junmyeon because they secretly want him regardless of their sexuality??
  • anyways they’re just beautiful
  • hand in hand with female junmyeon fans in order to keep the peace in the fandom
  • probably crazy (somewhere deep deep inside them)

zitao fanboys:

  • in love
  • if not in love with zitao then they’re probably at least shocked at how fucking hot he is when he is kicking ass
  • either chill or really really extra
  • lovely

minseok fanboys:

  • XIUDADDY
  • thirsty
  • type of people to complain on twitter about their merch being one day late because dEVOTED
  • we are all minseok fanboys

old people always talk about having a mid life crisis but ive already had like 5 and im not even 30

Accelerate (M) pt. 3 ; Jungkook

Originally posted by jjks

Being in love with a playboy is harder than you thought. You don’t know what you expected.

Part 1Part 2 ○ inspired by this vine

smut, 3.1k words, jungkook/reader, racer/playboy/rich kid au


“A fractured ankle, whiplash, a giant bruise the size of Jupiter on his cheek, and another across his chest,” Jin says, pouring you a drink. He pushes it across the table to you, and you take it gratefully. “Overall, not as bad as it could’ve been. He got really fucking lucky, with the seatbelt and airbags and shit.”

You feel like you can finally fucking breathe even as you scowl, hard. “That’s still pretty bad.”

Jin gives you a look. “You’re just salty because no one kept you updated on his condition, aren’t you?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So let me get this straight. In Larrie world, the rest of the 1D boys are peachy keen for going solo, and should be supported. But Harry going solo means he's an arrogant asshole who hates 1D? Wow.

[larrie voice] loOK it would be FINE if harry went solo it’s JUST that there’s been a SMEAR campaign since 2012 that he HATED EVERYBODY iN his banD and he NEVER CONTRADICTED IT but also NEVER GAVE ANY INDICATION he wanted to go solo EVER AT ALL and also that he isn’t ACTIVE on SOCIAL MEDIA because they KNOW we FOLLOW THEIR EVERY MOVE and IMBUE THEM WITH SIGNIFICANCE so WHY didn’t he GIVE SIGNS like IDK TALKING ABOUT BEING IN THE STUDIO or WHAT HE WANTED TO SAY AS A SOLO ARTIST or IDK ASKING PAUL MCCARTNEY ABOUT HIS GOING SOLO EXPERIENCE and like if he would just SAY SOMETHING OFfiCIALLY so that we KNOW HE CARES about us as faNS then maybe we could believe what LITERALLY EVERYONE WHO KNOWS OR HAS WORKED WITH HARRY HAS BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS but all we HAVE is like some WACKY DOODLE CEO of a RECORD COMPANY like WTF is THAT it isn’t CREDIBLE at all I JUST WANT BETTER FOR HIM BC HIS TEAM IS OBVI FUCKING HIM OVER what with EVERYTHING HE DOES BEING SO RABIDLY ANTICIPATED i mean i wilL BUY HIS ALBUM ANYWAY i just has the saDS and also if he reLEASES A SOLO ALBUM BEFORE DUNKIRK everYONE wilL HATE HIM bc I HAVEN’T WORKED THE REasON OUT YET BUT IT SOUNDS LEGIT

THE POINT IS I am ConcERNED about hiS CAREER I JUST WANT WhaT IS BEST FOR HIM

ANywaY HE shouLD COME OUT

You know I’m reading the audition scripts for Supergirl and I’m just…so mad we didn’t get Nick Farrow instead of Mon?

Like don’t get me wrong, I am still very salty over karolsen, and sidelining James for any white dude is still horrible, but like…if they’re going to pull a racist af move like that, Nick would have been so much better and that’s from two scripts of dialogue.

First of all, not a slave owner.

And his butting heads with Kara actually…makes sense? He’s a Pulitzer prize winning reporter and Kara is a rookie who only got a job because Cat threw her a freebie, at least in his mind. There is an actual reason why they don’t get along at first. Even if I don’t like it, at least it makes sense.

And Nick won a freaking Pulitzer prize. So he’s a journalist at the same level as James. He is accomplished, clearly driven if he was able to do that, and Kara mentions that she even used to admire him. Nick has the same journalistic passion Kara has, so they actually have something in common.

More importantly, Nick would have actually had something to offer KARA, unlike Mon, who makes me question wtf Kara sees in him? Like, how does he help KARA grow?*** Whereas Nick would have pushed Kara to be a better journalist while she’s pushing him. It had potential to be a relationship based on mutual growth–like karolsen was.

Plus, it would have forced CatCo to actually relate to the plot.

They could have even had Chris Wood play him anyway.

M'gann could have been in the pod or something.

Tl;dr: If CW was going to be problematic af with James, Nick Farrow would have at least made way more sense as a choice.

***Do not give me the ‘Kara was prejudiced’ thing. I don’t buy it. Daxam freaking OWNED SLAVES. Kara was…actually pretty right on the money being suspicious af of them tbh.

I’ve been told that Threadless’ products don’t turn out to be as good quality as they claim, and I’m starting to get suspicious of a few other things about the site, so I guess I’m gonna be sticking with Redbubble after all. I just finished re-uploading the designs I made so far here:

https://www.redbubble.com/people/lexidrawsthings

For those who reblogged Pocketwave and/or Everybody Loves Starscream if you could reblog this as well it would be much appreciated! And I’m very sorry for any inconveniences that this may have caused!!

“The day finally came. I got to the studio two hours early. I ordered my favorite Chinese food. I was sure to include some vegetarian dishes for Michael. I was so nervous that I started practicing in front of the food just how I would introduce Michael. Would I say, “Mike, would you like some Chinese food?” Or, “Mike, want some of this, man?” Or maybe it’d be better to say, “If you’re in the mood for some Chinese food, Michael, you’re welcome to it.” 

Thirty minutes and several phone calls from Jackson’s people later, the legendary singer arrives. He looked at least eight feet tall. He looked like an avatar. He was wearing a black mask over his face. Only his eyes were showing. Finally, Mike walked over to me. He looked in my eyes, opened his arms, and gave me the hug of my life, whispering to me in his lighter-than-air, soft, high voice. “The world’s gonna be singing this song.” 
I blurted out something silly like, “Congratulations on everything you’ve done, Mike. Congratulations on being Michael Jackson.” 

Just about then, Bubbles the chimp pranced into the room. In my mind, I called Bubbles “Trouble.” The chimp made me nervous. “He’s friendly, isn’t he, Mike?” “Oh, yes, he’s not going to hurt you.” “Anyway,” I said, “I’m just glad you like the song.” “I don’t like it, Rob. I love it. I don’t want to change one thing. I want to sing it just the way you wrote it. You captured me beautifully. That’s the reason I came here. We can get started just as soon as I do my vocal warm-ups.” “If you excuse me for a minute,” I said, “I’ll be right back.” 

I walked to the bathroom and just fell out on the floor. I broke down and cried. It wasn’t that Michael Jackson was singing my song; it was that Michael had felt how I’d caught his spirit. Michael Jackson had come to Chicago to work with me! “Rob,” he said in that high, sing-song voice, “would you mind coming in here and singing backgrounds with me?” Mind? Are you kidding? Michael Jackson was asking me to sing with him!

I had to practically stop myself from running to the vocal booth. I paced myself so I could walk slowly, but in my heart I felt like a little girl. When we started to sing, the blend was perfect. We were butter and toast. He did that some rocking motion I’d seen him do on “We Are the World.” Sitting there next to me – my voice over his, his voice over mine – I tasted heaven. Heaven on earth. Brother, this is as good as it gets. 
“You know, Rob,” he said later that afternoon, “sometimes it can take me a month to get a song where I want it.” “Me, too, Mike,” I agreed. “Sometimes it takes me more than a month.” 

“I’m glad you understand. You’ll be patient with me, won’t you?” “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Mike. It’s still like a dream for me.” Then, the King of Pop made an unexpected request“Can I ask you something else?” “Sure.” “Is there a mall around here, Rob?” “Just a couple of blocks away.” 
“Would you go there with me? I love malls.” 
“I love ‘em too, Mike. Let’s roll.” With Bubbles and the security team in place, we went to Water Tower Place, one of the nicest malls in Chicago. Michael headed straight for the Disney store where he was fascinated by a larger-than-life statue of Donald Duck hung above the entrance. “That’s beautiful,” said Michael. “Do you think they’d sell it to me? I’d love to have Donald Duck for Neverland.” “Couldn’t hurt to ask,” I said. 
Of course Michael Jackson walking into the Disney store caused a near-riot. When the manager appeared, Michael couldn’t have been sweeter: “Is there any way I could buy that Donald Duck?” he asked. 
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Jackson. It’s permanently built into the front of the store.” 
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Michael said politely. “But thank you anyway, sir.” I’d never met anyone with better manners. 

The pair worked on perfecting the song over the next three weeks and spent time chatting together in the studio. The experience of working with Mike was drama-free. Every night after he left the studio and got in his van, people were hanging out the windows of office buildings and hotels, stretching their necks to get a glimpse of him. He’d always stop and wave. When the job was done and it was time for him to leave Chicago, he gave me another hug and said, “You’re my brother.” I was too choked up to say anything. 

When “You Are Not Alone” dropped as the second single off Mike’s History album, it made the Guinness World Records book as the first song to debut at #1 on the Billboard Top 100 chart. It was #1 in the U.K. as well as in France, New Zealand, Spain, Switzerland, and Japan. Mike was right. They were singing it all over the world.” 

Michael Jackson died on June 25, 2009. News of his death was like a hatchet to my chest. He meant to me what breathing means to most people. He was not only my brother and friend, he was also my mentor. I am honored and blessed to have been in Michael’s presence. I got to know him like most of the world never will – on a person-to-person, soul-to-soul level.”

 — R. Kelly (Shares His Memories of Meeting Michael Jackson)

I wish I could afford to get a second rabbit. I’ve been reading about them lately and they do better in pairs, they’re actually less work when they’re in a pair because they keep each other occupied so they aren’t destroying your house from boredom. 

I didn’t buy my rabbit so it’s not my fault he doesn’t have a friend, but at the moment I can’t afford vet bills so I can only handle one. (Especially since Ralph had a close call emergency at the beginning of the year and if that happened to a new rabbit or to him again it’s pretty expensive, and it’s not that uncommon an issue in rabbits). 

I mean I’m in my room all the time anyway and I play with him a lot so he’s not totally alone all day but I can tell that he is bored. Well, only half a year before I graduate and can start looking for a full time job. I’ll get him a girlfriend after that, lol. 

Look After You - John Laurens x Reader

Anon- ‘Could you please do #24 and #80 with Laurens please? Thx!! 💕’
Word count- 1826
Warnings- pregnancy ??, mentions of vomiting, swearing
Notes- first fic of 2017 (!!) I do plan on writing much more this year so hopefully I stick to that resolution
enjoy !!

Prompts- “Say it!” & “I’m pregnant”

(a/n I didn’t mention anything about abortion in this because everybody has their own opinion about it. Personally, I’m pro-choice but i know that not everybody else is, so to not make this too problematic, i just didn’t include it)

Shit.

Two baby pink lines were clearly situated on the plastic stick you held in front of yourself. All because of one stupid drunken mistake. Shit.

Immediately, your thoughts clouded from the panic that was now settling in your mind. Were you old enough? Would he want this? How were you meant to look after your own tiny child? And what about childbirth? You weren’t ready for this, you convinced yourself, you had no experience whatsoever.

I mean, sure, you thought, you’d had experience with children before. A few of your friends had kids, and you had family members who’d had kids as well. But when it came to actually looking after a child’s life constantly, until they left home when they were adults? How were you honestly meant to be left with that responsibility.

You disposed of the test in the trash can and exited your bathroom, grateful that you lived alone in that moment. The quiet, dead air comforted you, until you realised that you technically weren’t the only life living in your apartment anymore. You felt your hands begin to shake slightly before you took a deep breath. This was it. You were going to have a child.


Walking over to your laptop, you opened it and instantly opened up google, typing into the search engine: ‘what not to do when pregnant’. You clicked on the first result it provided you with and began reading.

1. Don’t drink alcohol! - especially during the first 3 months, although some say that there is no evidence that the occasional drink can do any harm.

Well that one was obvious. You knew that you had drank alcohol since that night. Hell, you were even drunk when you made the mistake. But you had to cut down, you knew that.

2. Avoid x-rays and vaccinations- they can be dangerous to the fetus and could cause defects

That was do-able, you thought to yourself.

3. Don’t wear stilettos - stick to heels that are 3 inches high or less- your back will be strained enough as it is!

That was easy enough. You were sure you’d be able to find plenty of shoes that wouldn’t cause your feet major discomfort.

4. Don’t believe everything you read - often you’ll come across a story that will both scare you and also not be true. If in doubt, ask your doctor.

Again, easy. The more you could avoid the scare stories, the better.

5. Lastly, don’t let anyone tell you what to do with how you deal with your pregnancy - although if it comes from a medical personnel, it’s probably advisable to follow it. However, it is your own body, you’re the one who’s carrying this baby and you know yourself better than anyone, not the doctor, not your family, not the father-

The father. John. Shit.

How were you meant to tell him? You were barely coming to terms with the prospect of your future suddenly being changed much earlier that you thought it would. Now you had to bring him into this mess as well.
You weren’t even sure whether he remembered the night that well.

You, him, and the rest of your little group - Hamilton, Lafayette, Mulligan and the three Schuylers to be exact - had decided to go out to celebrate something that had long since escaped your mind. It was meant to be a semi-casual outing with a few drinks being bought, but, needless to say, it got a little out of hand. You weren’t entirely sure who had first initiated that first kiss but either way, it happened and now you were paying the price.

You had to tell him. How, you didn’t know. But there was no way you’d be able to raise this child knowing it was his, unbeknownst to him. No, you had to tell him. You just hoped that he’d take it well.

~~~

DING

You head rose from the palm of your hand that it was resting on at the sound of your phone waking you. Your hands fumbled slightly with the home button, as you cleared your head from your recent nap.
It was a text from John. In an instant, all the thoughts of guilt, worry and terror came flooding back in. Despite your better judgement, you opened the text, expecting some simple 'hey, how are you’ text. You were out of luck.

John- hey, we haven’t seen you in a bit, wanna go out w the guys tonight??

It was the first time he’d planned something since that night with you all, as far as you were aware. Whenever the lot of you had gone out in the brief period of time in between then and now, it had been Herc or Hamilton who had organized the outings. Of course, it could have been that he did remember that night and was too reluctant to invite you and so he had just invited the others instead.

You realised that you hadn’t even replied so you tapped out a positive accept to his invitation before pausing and realising what you were agreeing to. 'Go out’. Probably to a bar. Where there would be alcohol. Which you couldn’t drink and would have to turn down. That would immediately arouse suspicion. Although you knew you’d have to tell them eventually - the large bump that would soon be appearing on your stomach would give the game away anyway - you’d rather figure out what you were going to say to him first.

You deleted the message, wondering how you were meant to turn him down without sounding like you were ignoring them all. You could use the classic 'feeling unwell’ excuse, which wouldn’t be too far from being untrue. You had woken up that morning with the indubitable urge of violent vomiting, which you regrettably submitted to. It had been the thing that had encouraged you to buy the god forsaken pregnancy test in the first place. Having nothing better to give him, you typed out a new message explaining that you couldn’t go out and put your phone back down, exhaling a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

It wasn’t too long before he came back with a reply, however, and you quickly picked your phone back up.

John- you want me to come round and bring anything?

How were you meant to say no? You knew that he was too good for what he’d now have to deal with. You mentally apologised to him but still you agreed and, as if no time had passed, he was soon on your doorstep.
His hair looked like he’d recently tied it back, and you were certain that his socks weren’t matching, but other than that he looked completely normal. You wondered whether he’d be able to tell that there was something else wrong by the look on your face but he quickly pulled you into a warm embrace, surprisingly you slightly. This wasn’t unlike John - he was, to some extent, and touchy-feely type of person - but the way he seemed to handle you with care made you relax and you rested you head on his shoulder.
“You okay?” He asked quietly, still not pulling away.
“I’ve been better,” you admitted with a shaky laugh. You felt him smile and you two parted. You pulled him into the apartment, not wanting to stand in the hallway much longer. He pulled off his shoes, as he always did when he came round to your apartment, despite you never asking him to.

You felt his eyes watching you as you sat down on the couch but you ignored them, knowing that they held a thousand questions that you wouldn’t be able to answer. Instead, you picked up a stack of dvd cases left on your wooden coffee table and turned to him.
“Movies?” you asked, holding them up.
“Sure,” he replied. You walked over to your cheap tv and placed the dvd into the player, once again detecting his eyes on you. You flopped back down on the couch, him joining you, and the movie started with the two of your in silence. You were relieved to see that his attention was no longer on yourself but rather the movie itself. You shifted your body slightly and kept your eyes on the film that you were inevitably no longer paying attention to - instead your mind was running wild once again, for what seemed like the millionth time today.

“You’re not telling me something.” John spoke up, his eyes on you once again. You shot him a confused look and he carried on. “I can see it. In your face. Something else had happened.”
“John- it’s fine, I’m-” you started, not feeling ready to have this conversation yet.
“No, you constantly look like your thinking too hard about something. And, although it’s frustratingly cute, it’s also not like you. So fess up.”
“John, please-”
“(Y/N)…” he dragged on the last syllable of your name, making you smile slightly. “Say it! You can trust me,”

You looked at him hard, taking in all his features. His eyes were lit up but still had a level of concern evident in them, locked onto yours. His lips were upturned in the ghost of a smile. You took a deep breath before saying the words out loud. “I’m pregnant.”

“Shit,” he breathed out, his facial expression now looking torn between being happy for you and also confusion. “Shit, that’s- wow. And it’s-” he trailed off, looking away, suddenly becoming the one lost for words.
“It’s what?” You asked him gently, grateful that he hadn’t panicked yet.
“Is it mine?” he asked his eyes locking with yours.
“Yeah,” you smiled gently, expecting the worst but being relieved when it didn’t come. Instead you were met once again with his arms wrapped around your body, even tighter than ever before. Your own arms mimicked his own and you felt a massive weight that had been unknowingly weighing you down all day lifted off your shoulders.
“Shit,” he half laughed.
“Yeah,” you said again with the similar tone.
“I’m gonna be a dad,” he said to you with a goofy smile on his face.
“You’re okay with this?” you asked, gesturing towards your stomach.
“As long as you are,” John assured.

Thankful that he had taken it better than you had ever expected, you felt your lips connect with his own. You pushed him back slightly, taking him by surprise but he quickly adjusted and deepened the kiss, placing his hands on your waist. You felt him smile against your lips, before pulling away and resting his forehead against your own. You regained your breath and looked at him.
“So,” he started.
“So,” you copied, the smile on your face not threatening to leave anytime soon.
“You wanna do that more often?”
You responded by pressing your own lips to his once again, this time wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Mommy Winchester

Winchesters x reader

Warnings: Language

A/N: Events of the show will not be in order (so probable spoilers)

Also, this is very long. Let me know if you want another part!


“Okay, so this yolk died about four hours ago,” your assistant sighs as she flips through the paperwork. “Apparently he died — from having his chest torn open.”

You raise your brows as you slip on your elastic gloves, glancing at the body on the cold metal table of your mortuary, the white sheet hiding the remains from you.

Your morgue looks like any other you’ve ever seen, silver cold chambers lining the walls, three metal tables in the center of the room awaiting new occupants. The room smells of sterility and death, the luminescent bulbs in the lights above giving off that annoying hum as they dim and brighten every now and again, the entire room as cold as an ice box itself; your office was just outside, the blinds drawn on all the windows as you were very serious about your privacy.

“His chest was torn open?” you ask, raising your brows.

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Sign's Reactions To "I didn't know what you wanted, so I got you money."

Aries: This is enough to buy what i want yes yes good good
Taurus: Damn, okay. I’ll take it but try asking next time. Like thanks ily but srs.
Gemini: “Thanks, thats what I wanted anyways.” *saves up all of the money and buys the gift they wanted*
Cancer: But I put so much thought into you’re gift… fine i’ll just get you money next year bby :) :)
Leo: “AWWWWWWW YIIIIISSSSSSS”
Virgo: Pockets the money, hugs the giver, and retreats back into their room.
Libra: “Aw! Thanks! You could have asked, but this is totally fine!” and means it.
Scorpio: High fives self cause now they can get whatever illegal shit they had on their mind
Sagittarius: “Plane tickets to get the fuck away from you would have been better but h e y whatever man no hard feelings, right? Uncle Ben? Why are you crying?”
Capricorn: Takes the money and starts talking about the stuff theyre going to buy with it (and sometimes its true, sometimes it turns out theyre on the Highway to Illegal Shit)
Aquarius: Screechs and thanks for the gift, running into their room and adding the bundles of cash they have, debating on whether or not they should save it up until their birthday, or, just spend it on whatever they wanted.
Pisces: “Ah, thanks man, good thing too. The one thing you would have gotten me I have 90 of so ty”

The Best Remedy

A/N: Based on the post: Imagine waking up feeling sick. You tell your favourite character this. They kiss your forehead gently to assess your temperature. They exclaim that you’re burning up and insist on taking care of you, even running out to get you medicine and looking up home remedies for whatever ails you!

Female reader/male FC.

I really liked this post, so I wanted to try writing a fic for it.

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The Night Before Christmas (Mayday One Shot)

(((I promised you all a Mayday one shot at the holidays!!!)))

You and Bucky spend the evening before Christmas at home; you learn more about his past and he gives you a surprise gift.

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mayday)

*read my Mayday Series HERE*


Christmas Eve, Brooklyn, New York

I lay in bed, reading a book, my long legs stretched out under the blankets. The space heater buzzed on the floor beside the bed. It was a little past ten pm the night before Christmas. Bucky had banished me from the living room about an hour before, so he could wrap my gifts. He’d been shopping with Steve last week while Six was off doing whatever it was she did, and had kept everything at his friends apartment until this evening. Why he hadn’t wrapped them there, I didn’t know; those two men could save the world no problem, but figuring out the semantics of holiday preparation wasn’t a strong suit of either one.


I heard the music in the other room turn off, and the faint glow of the lamps also went out. Bucky’s large frame appeared in the doorway; I set down my book. “You all done babe?” I asked, stretching. He nodded, closing the door most of the way, the same way it was every night when we went to sleep. We’d been living in this apartment for a few months now, and it was beginning to feel like home. Really though, wherever he was felt like home to me.

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3...2...1...

Rucas FanFic Week: Day Five 
Prompt: “Everything we do is weird to everyone else but us.” - Fluffy
Word Count: 1,425

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

After a torturous two years of ‘will they? won’t they?’ Riley Matthews and Lucas Friar finally became official and nine months down the track they’re still going strong.  

One morning at school Riley finds her boyfriend waiting patiently by her locker. 

“Good morning, Miss Matthews,” He greets her with a grin. 

“Good morning, Mr. Friar,” She matches his upbeat tone. 

Bleh,” Maya sticks her tongue out before leaving the two to be alone. 

“Is she going to bleh us every morning?” Lucas pouts. 

“She’s only been doing it every day for nine months,” Riley gives him a sweet smile. 

“Well good thing she’s not around now,” Lucas exaggerates himself checking the halls, “Because you’re going to make contact in 3…2..1…”  

Riley smiles at his countdown and plants a soft peck on his lips. “Hand holding shall commence in 3…2…1…” Riley holds her hand out with fingers spread wide. On one Lucas intertwines their fingers together and they begin to walk to class. 

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akambrose  asked:

Okay, so I have kind of a weird question. My tarot deck has all the genders reversed (so I have The Hanged Woman, and The Queen is the highest of each suite.) I get really confused with how to read some of the cards, can I get your help on this maybe? I can send you pictures, if need be.

I’ve been sitting on your ask for a while. For reasons.

Let’s get somethings out of the way: your question isn’t weird. It can be disconcerting to expect one thing in terms of titles and structure, then get something else. We’re told the Hanged Man is the Hanged Man, and the Kings are the highest expression of their suit, and dammit, that’s how tarot is. It might be a little old-fashioned, but tarot’s old fashion! Whatever, you know?

But that entrenched idea of how tarot should be, titles and genders and all, is very much anchored in this incredibly patriarchal culture we’ve grown up in and has been developing for hundreds and hundreds of years. So we expect that the king is the one who’s most mastered the qualities of a suit, that the Hanged Man must be a man at all, and that gender can change the meanings of the cards.

I write all that because I want to challenge you. I would love it if you (and I and anyone else who reads this, really) took a moment to ask yourself, “What is it, exactly, that throws me off about having the genders switched up in the cards?” How does that actually change their meanings? The Hanged Man, the Hanged Woman, the Hanged Person… they all speak to stagnancy, to betrayal, to sacrifice, to a new perspective.

If it helps, think about how a distinctly female or womanly perspective can enhance the experience and meaning of the cards. Because yes, women have different experiences than men. But then, genderqueer and non-binary folks have different experiences from binary identified folks, so imagine what it would be like to have cards that are distinctly and purposefully non-gendered or gendered in an androgynous or genderfucking way. The impacts are endless, and we’re just talking about gender!

(to that end, check out @tinycog’s tarot designs. Or @noelarthurian. Both have been putting out amazing works that completely upend the tradition tarot image structure, in terms of race, gender presentation, ability… Also, Christy C. Rhodes has designed a deck as well that funded on Kickstarter).

If you think it would be better for you, you could also buy a more traditional deck to work with as well.

Anyway, I wrote all this to say that 1, it may be helpful to do some self-exploration on why it feels so difficult to have these changes in a deck. And 2, any and all of those changes, to me, can only enhance and add to the expansive tradition surrounding tarot, its imagery, and its structure. 3, there are so many decks, new and old, that do this kind of thing; your deck is part of that “let’s fuck with and expand tarot!” tradition, and that’s fantastic. Enjoy it!

Request - Scott McCall “Real Blood” (Sequel to: “Just a sprained ankle”)

You were sighing, hiding in your coat, the cold evening making you shiver. You knew that it was your own fault that you were out here, bringing Melissa some food because she had to work an extra shift.
You had thought it would be nice to go out for a while, but now the cold was actually hurting you, you regretted saying yes to her.
“Watch out!” You opened the door of the hospital, hearing the screaming voice a little bit too late. “I’m so sorry…” A young face was looking up at you from the floor and you frowned your eyebrows, noticing how everything, including yourself, was covered in blood, real blood, blood that probably could have been used a lot better than like this.
“It’s okay…” You checked the bag to see if all the food was okay and shrugged your shoulders.
“It’s my first day here and, I’m sorry…” The young intern stuttered again and stood up, but you just shook your head, repeating over and over that it was okay, that it wasn’t a problem at all, that you would just take a shower and that you had wanted to buy a new coat anyway.
“(Y/N)!” Melissa raised her eyebrows when she saw you walking in, the bag with her food blooded, just like your jacket and clothes.
“Don’t worry about it, Melissa, just an intern not being careful.” You shrugged your shoulders and put the bag down on the desk in front of her. “I checked the food and it should be okay.” You smiled at her and she smiled back, while Scott ran in, his eyes widening, but his lips curling into a smile as soon as he noticed that both you and his mother were perfectly calm.
“Did you have another accident with the latex?” He nodded towards your blooded clothes and you shook your head, smiling while remembering the last time you had scared the entire pack.
“No, in this case it’s real blood.” You wanted to walk away, but Scott grabbed your wrist, his muscles tensed, his eyes filled with panic and worry.
“We really should check if you’re okay.” He whispered softly and you saw that he was wondering why you were so relaxed, why his mother was so relaxed, why the hospital let you walk around like this.
“Scott, don’t worry, it’s…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, feeling how Scott lifted you up.
“Mum, you can’t let her go like this!” His voice was trembling a little bit and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment before you looked up at him.
“Scott, it may be real blood, but it’s not mine.” You waited for a short moment, seeing how he rolled his eyes, how he had to think about your words, puzzling the pieces together.
“What happened? Are you okay?” He put you down on the floor, his hands pressed on your shoulder, probably thinking that you had been fighting or something like that.
“It was just a stupid intern spilling a bag of blood on me and your mom’s dinner. I think I can handle that.” You smiled and saw how Scott sighed relieved, his lips starting to laugh.
“You have a strange talent of looking like you’re seriously damaged.” He shook his head and you shrugged you shoulders.
“Just keep on checking if I’m okay, okay? One day it might be real…”