desperately even

“Prom was invented just to make girls starve so they can fit in a dress and compete over a stupid title.”

“Uh –” Derek blinks, eyes his sister dubiously, “I’m not a girl?”

Cora huffs. “Whatever.”

In the kitchen Laura bursts out laughing. “Don’t worry.” She yells. “Cora is just jealous she will have to wait five years to go to her own prom.”

“I’m not going!” Cora yells back. “Prom is stupid, I don’t even know why you’re going,” she tells Derek, “it’s not like you know how to have fun.”

Derek raises an eyebrow while Laura just laughs harder. “Oh my god.” Their older sister says. “I stay away for six months and Cora turns into a sassy queen.” She walks into the living room, pretends to wipe at her eyes. “I’m so proud.”

“You two are ridiculous.” Derek says, turning around. “And I’m just going because Erica promised to pay me. With ice cream.” Then he gives Cora a wicked smile. “That I’m not going to share with either of you.”

“You are the worst brother!” Cora yells as he begins to climb the stairs. “And I hope you fall on your ass while trying to dance!”

“Can’t hear you!” Derek’s cell begins to ring. “Too busy getting ready to prom!”

Laura lets out a high-pitched laughter. “I love you two so much.”

Derek shakes his head fondly, closes his bedroom door behind himself just as Cora tells Laura to shut up. “Hey.” He answers the phone, collapsing on his bed. “What’s up?”

“Yo,” Stiles answers, “whatcha doing?”

“Listening to my sisters fight.” He says, snorting when he hears his dad start complaining about all the yelling and ‘no, Cora, I’m not letting you go to prom, you’re thirteen!’. “I’m gonna have to check the trunk of my car tomorrow night.”

Stiles laughs. “She’s not that good.”

“If you keep teaching her, she will be.” Derek blurts out, curses himself mentally when he realizes it came out harsher than he intended.

It’s just – sometimes he can’t help it. He’s known Stiles since they were four, Cora wasn’t even born then, but one day she turned eleven and Stiles became her new favorite person. Stiles couldn’t find it funnier and took Cora as his little apprentice. He even taught her how to cheat on Mario Kart.

He’s never taught Derek that.

Derek rolls his eyes, thinks about his little sister still downstairs pouting and trying to convince their dad that she’s old enough to go out. He shouldn’t be jealous of her, but the thing is – he grew up with two sisters, he knows how to share toys and food, but he doesn’t know how to share Stiles.

Because Stiles is his.

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vimeo

It’s Saturday! Time for the Aidan Turner Clip O’ The Week!

lmao the only hope i have left of some kinda ramadhan rep is from the balloon squad doing a ramadhan themed hei briskeby video.

which is sad, bc thats not even part of the show, since a lot of people don’t even watch those vids, bc the hei briskeby channel is a side thing.

but my desperate muslims ass will even take that over this mute silence we’re getting on the show, in the clips, on ramadhan right now.

boys, do your thing. please. for the sake of every muslim fan watching.

anonymous asked:

Okay, but now we need to see Dark trying to convince the Jims to tear out their eyes, or see the Jims desperate enough to even consider it because their visions are so bad, and it can either end in Wilford saving them.... or not

There’s a mixture of noises in their ears, the voices of those dying and the wail of a destructive wind and filtered in, soft and sweet, is Dark’s voice. 

He says it’s the only way, the best way to make the visions more tolerable, even provides them with a silver knife to make things easier. With both of them caught in the throws of a particularly bad vision (rarer and shorter but so much worse) it seems like a perfectly viable action, anything to stop the death and destruction that flickers through their eyes. 

And why shouldn’t they believe Dark, who had been kind to them and had promised them relief? Newscaster Jim shudders as the vision leaves him, uncurling from his protective hunch and watches his twin do the same. Weatherman Jim looks pale and drawn, dark eyes unusually haunted. Newscaster Jim’s eyes flash toward the knife, unsure of how to proceed. 

He’s shaken from the vision, but he’s still indecisive, the thought of losing his eyes (especially like this) terrifying to him. But the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to try. 

Dark had promised it would be the answer. Weatherman Jim carefully picks up the knife, eyeing it warily. They’re both contemplative about it, a bloody, wide eyed little girl fresh in Newscaster Jim’s mind and a stomach churning storm whirling in Weatherman Jim’s. 

And then the door slams open, making the both of them jump and startling them out of their thoughts. Wilford’s in the doorway, manic smile in place, though there’s a strange look in his eyes that they don’t have time to decipher before it’s gone, replaced by a wild gleam. 

“You’re needed in the studio, boys!” He says, voice chipper. 

He shoots an oddly sharp glare at the silver knife, plucking it from Weatherman Jim’s hand with a “tut tut tut” and tucking it into whatever void he has in his pocket. 

“Now, now, no need for any of that”, he hums and the Jims aren’t sure if they feel disappointed or relieved. 

AUs no one asked for
  •  I’m sleeping over at my friend’s flat from university after study group and just got woken up in the middle of the night by their roommate, who is sitting in the kitchen, listening very loudly to the dirty dancing soundtrack and crying. Like wtf, I didn’t even know they had a roommate and normally I would yell at you but damn you are cute. You really need to stop tho dude, its 4am, some people in this house want to sleep AU
  • I am a barista and you are a customer who comes in every day and orders the same thing and today my friend brought you with them, I didn’t even know we had mutual friends and WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT IS NOT ACTUALLY YOUR NAME HAVE I REALLY BEEN WRITING A NAME THAT IS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO YOURS ON YOUR CUPS FOR OVER HALF A YEAR WHY HAVE YOU NEVER CORRECTED ME AU
  • The house party me and my friends threw kinda escalated and after throwing out everyone I found this half naked person passed out in my bed but I can’t be bothered to wake them up now so I’m just gonna go to sleep and deal with it in the morning, they are kind of cute anyway AU
  • (or alternatively) I just woke up in a stranger’s bed and I’m half naked, I cant remember anything about yesterday besides that the party was great and that I got absolutely wasted AND OH MY GOD THERE IS A HOT PERSON NEXT TO ME IN BED AND THEY ARE NOT WEARING MUCH WHAT DID WE DO YESTERDAY AU
  • You are my new coworker and I’m pretty sure I’ve never met you SO WHY ARE YOU LOOKING SO FAMILIAR FUCK I THINK YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE ANGSTY EMO KIDS I USED TO STALK BACK IN THE MYSPACE DAYS I CANT BELIEVE THIS AU
  • We work out at the same gym and you are my declared rival because we have the same workout routine and you are always better than me and on my way to the locker room I passed you in the shower where you were singing the opening of hannah montana and I can still hear you and you switched to the lion king now and even though I hate you I think I am kind of in love with you AU
  • I’m hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant from a spectacularly awful tinder date and you are in a similar situation because a guy at the bar just won’t stop hitting on you and now we are planning an epic escape together even though we only met ten minutes ago AU
3

I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THIS.

So I was doing an economics course which required you to create your own fake company.. and I found these.. someone named their firm CLEXA and CLARKE GRIFFIN and ALYCIA ADC CLAN and LUTHOR (btw “studio commercialista” is italian for “accounting firm”)

GUYYYSSSSS..I FOUND A GAY™   im so excited about this cuz I never had a friend who shares my passion for these shows and characters..

I NEED TO FIND OUT WHO THEY ARE.. I don’t know how though.. in my school there are like.. 800 people 😭

Katsuki Yuuri is 22 and in college and disgustingly in love with Viktor Nikiforov, his boyfriend of two years.

They have a one-year-old puppy named Makkachin, whom they got from the breeder as soon as he was fully weaned. 

They live together in a gorgeous 2-bedroom apartment - with huge bay windows and what is technically a guest room, but which they’ve been calling “Phichit’s room” for as long as they’ve been living there, for how often the Thai boy stays over. Sometimes, Chris stays there too, when he’s in the country, and Phichit will complain for weeks afterwards that nothing is where he left it and someone has been rummaging in his personal belongings. (Yuuri and Viktor have long since given up questioning why he even keeps his personal belongings in their guestroom).

Viktor is a successful, best-selling author who insists on travelling to the places his books are set in the interest of accuracy even when the setting has next to nothing to do with the plot, because he’s just extra like that.

Yuuri and Makkachin travel with him whenever they can, but being a college student doesn’t give you that much free time, so most often Yuuri has to stay at home, or come home early. He doesn’t mind too much. He’s never actually alone for more than a few days at a time anyways (again, Phichit crashes at their place a lot).

They’re happy and disgustingly adorable and #couplegoals for literally everyone.

And then…they break up. And neither of them will say why. All anyone knows is that it started with a tiny little argument, and spiralled quickly into something monstrous and devastating.

And within the month, Yuuri moves out of his gorgeous 2-bedroom apartment with the huge bay windows and the guest room that they used to call Phichit’s room.

He leaves behind the boyfriend he was disgustingly in love with, and the puppy that whines pitifully after him, scratching at the door and begging to be let out.

He’s done uni by then, and so is Phichit. They have nothing left to tie them to that city, and because Phichit is beautiful and perfect and a way better best friend than Yuuri deserves, he convinces Yuuri to move with him across the country, to sunny beaches and towering palms, to a place as far away from home as they can possibly get, while staying in the same country.

And Viktor? He’s left behind in a too big apartment, with a heartbroken puppy that lies listlessly on Yuuri’s side of the bed and can only fall asleep when listening to Yuuri’s breathless laughter through old vacation videos on Viktor’s laptop.

Once their lease is up, Viktor decides to move back home to Russia, to parents who hug him tightly when they see him standing miserable and tired on their doorstep, and a little brother who barely recognizes him without his ex boyfriend attached to his hip.

He keeps writing his books (tragedies now, instead of the romance his fans have grown to expect from him), even sells his movie rights to some of them, and Makkachin starts running and playing again, tongue lolling happily out of his mouth and bouncing with excitement whenever Yura mentions the beloved “w” word. These days, Viktor always takes him travelling with him, ever since Makkachin got sick with anxiety the first time Viktor left him behind at his parents’ home for a week.

And meanwhile, Yuuri learns to live with a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be, so painful some days he can barely breathe.

Phichit is with him every step of the way, his partner-in-crime, his brother in all but blood, his platonic soulmate. (It’s a warm and sticky summer night when they lie on a sandy beach and listen to the waves lapping quietly at their bare toes, and they promise each other that if neither of them are married by forty, they’ll just marry each other. It’s not exactly what Yuuri had wanted from his future, but it still makes him clutch at his stomach in breathless laughter when Phichit suggests it.)

Viktor had always been the author out of the two of them, the one that knew how to string words in just the right order to paint a vivid picture in the minds of his readers.

But Yuuri isn’t too bad at it himself, he thinks. He decides to give it a try.

He paints a story of a clumsy couple, charmingly naive, so in love, so perfectly imperfect. He paints a story of a couple that bickers and banters, fights and then makes up with whispered apologies and warm cuddles. He writes about a couple that fights and makes up, fights and makes up, fights and makes up until…quite suddenly…they don’t.

He writes about the couple that goes their separate ways. A couple that is too young, too inexperienced for this thing they have between them, this thing that’s so huge, so important, so beautiful, they’re both afraid to lose it, so they throw it away themselves.

And then, just because he wants to give them the one thing he’d long given up hope for, he ends their story with a question.

(Can we give this a second chance?)


Katsuki Yuuri is 26, and disgustingly in love with Viktor Nikiforov, the boy he broke up with three and a half years ago.

He has a cute little 2-year-old toy poodle named Vicchan, whom his roommate, his platonic soulmate (his potential fiancé?) had given to him as a present to get over his broken heart.

They live together in a cozy little 1-bedroom apartment just ten minutes away from the beach, with a sofa-bed that their friends, Guang-Hong and Leo, like to crash on sometimes when they’re in the middle of another lovers’ quarrel.

Yuuri is a best-selling author, with his one-hit wonder, On My Love, garnering international attention and countless desperate requests for a sequel.

Yuuri likes to take Vicchan for walks along the beach early in the morning, just as the sun is beginning to peek above the horizon and paint the sky in soft pinks and dazzling oranges.

They’re taking a break one day, with Vicchan splashing in the shallows a few feet away, when Yuuri is suddenly bowled over by a whining, panting, standard sized poodle, all soft brown fur and sloppy kisses.

He can barely breathe around the desperate affection, and not even Vicchan’s excited, curious yapping is enough to distract the ecstatic giant furball from his reunion with his long-lost and sorely missed human.

As soon as Yuuri can breathe again, fingers curled into his beautiful older puppy’s fur, he looks up, and his heart clenches at the sight of the Russian man standing a few feet away, a familiar paperback clutched to his chest with white-knuckled hands.

He still wears his heart on his sleeve.

A question tumbles out of his mouth.

And in that moment, Yuuri knows to start his next book with an answer.

(“Of course.”)

8

Or: the one where everybody joins kosegruppa because of their crush

5

We will find a way to put it all back together with whatever we have left at our disposal. But do not ask me to choose between a war and a wife. I do not think you’re going to like the answer.

9

skam season three + text posts