faces tell a story

You’ll get to a point in your life when you realize it’s been months, years, decades… and you forgot to live. Life is not Instagram. Life is not Facebook., Life is not texting. Life is forgetting your phone at home, going on an adventure with people that mean the most to you, feeling, sensing, actually looking around at the world and it’s beauty instead of your screen, and coming home with a huge smile on your face and a story to tell your grandkids. I’d challenge anyone to stop picking up his or her phone, stop walking around the city looking down at it, and try to remember what you experienced when you were a child. The universe is so much more interesting than any Instagram or text will ever be.
—  Sonya Esman: “What advice would you give to girls influenced by social media?” on Bloggersissue.com

everyones acting like shiro would hate being ‘6’ but lets be real he would’ve utilized the shit out of it when he was at the garrison

- some garrison teacher: where’s ur homework shiro: sorry couldn’t do it im only 4 years old can’t even read words that big yet

- 100% eats out of one of those portion plates w the dinosaur designs on them and refuses to eat his meals on anything else but that

- matt: shiro its ur turn to take out the trash shiro: im 4 matt, no 4 year old can take out the trash some stranger will lure me into their white van with a lollipop. i am a young, naive 4 year old.

- takes naps in the middle of class and justifies by saying he’s technically a child and children need nap time, then begs matt to carry him back to the dorm after class is over

- shiro: i need you to help me with this
matt: im busy rn
shiro: i will throw the biggest temper tantrum of any 4 year old out there and you’re gonna have to be the one to take me on a long drive to calm me down unless you help me now

- only watches cartoon shows
• sings along really badly to every theme song
• shiro: matt ur the buster to my arthur / 
matt: im going punch u in the fuckin face

- shiro: i can’t go to sleep matt tell me a story matt: once upon a time there was a 4 year old and his name was fliro, fliro lived with his friend pat at their boarding school the marrison. one night fliro couldn’t go to sleep and wouldn’t shut the fuck up, he annoyed pat so much that pat was forced to shoot him into space. fliro lived out the rest of his life alone in space and pat got a good nights sleep. the end
shiro: i didn’t like that story tell me a new one

- garrison guidance counsellor (im assuming they have at least one): so shiro we’re here to discuss your future—
shiro, covering his ears: I AM FOUR

- onesies.

- shiro, taking a long sip out of his juice box, wearing one of those hats with the flaps that r so long they’re mittens too: did i ask for ur opinion

Thief tried to steal my car...

My first car was a 1984 Jeep CJ7, a pretty sweet ride for a dirt poor teenager in the 90s. I was working midnights at a gas station and loaned it to my brother who was taking a date to a party. I got a call around 1AM from my brother who told me he left the keys in the Jeep and it was stolen. I was devastated. I was still on the phone with my brother when the thieves pulled my Jeep into my gas station to fill up on gas. As luck would have it, the gas gauge on my Jeep was broken and always read “empty”, and I worked at the only 24 hour gas stations in the area. I pressed the silent alarm and… proceeded to fill up my Jeep (it was a full serve station). When the thieves were out of the jeep, I saw an opportunity to slip the key out of this ignition and into my pocket. They paid for the gas, and argued amongst each other who had the keys last. The delay was enough for the police to arrive. I had to explain the story to the officer half a dozen times before he understood. The thieves had this stunned look of disbelief on their faces I’ll never forget. The cops were belly-laughing telling the story to dispatch, all the while the thieves sat in cuffs in the back of the squad car. The story made most of the major newspapers the following day.

Symbol Meme - Affectionate/Nice Edition

Send a symbol for my muse to respond to your muse….

♥ - Stroking/brushing their hair

♡ - Rubbing their shoulders

❥ - Holding their hand

❤ - Hugging/cuddling them

❄ - Staying close to them to keep warm

☆ - Reading to them

★ - Sitting at their bedside

☾ - Taking a nighttime walk with them

✚ - Bandaging their wound

✕ - Clasping their shoulder

❀ - Giving them a flower/flowers

♞ - Playing a game with them

◆ - Standing up for them

✪ - Defending them in a court/before an authority

♬ - Singing to them

◯ - Rescuing them

❇ - Stargazing with them

♛ - Comforting them

☁ - Washing their face

☼ - Camping with them

✔ - Hiking with them

☄ - Listening to them

✏ - Telling stories with them

⊿ - Coming to visit them

The Towel Story

Originally posted by awwsehun

Member: Exo Sehun

Type: Fluff/Smut

“The only way I will ever sit in his car is if I’m using it to run him over,” you snapped, pushing Kyungsoo’s hand off your shoulder and picking up your suitcase, wincing at the weight before starting down the stairs. Maybe you had over packed, but you didn’t want to risk running out of clothes, especially in a place so secluded.

Keep reading

  • Nino: ok wait I have an idea
  • Nino: you gotta call out 'babe!' and see who looks up
  • Nino: I'll go first
  • Nino: BABE!
  • Adrien: lmao nobody even flinched
  • Nino: you try then
  • Adrien: I will
  • Adrien: BABE!
  • Nathanel: what?
  • Marinette: yeah?
  • Chloe: you called?
  • Nino: what the fu

Dear Papa
Papa,
I’ve been hurting-
But I refuse to let you see me cry,
I refuse to let you see valleys and warm streams flow from my face- so I’ve been collecting jars of tears over the years and saving them just for you. Hoping that one day you’ll get thirsty enough to find me where no words would be exchanged. I’ll offer you a glass of tears hoping it not only quench your thirst but fill you with the parts of me that I’ve purged.
Papa
The implications of your actions have affected others beyond the means of your reach like half thought out plans never to be executed- like solitary confinement with steel bars, it was you who was the key to me…..and you still chose to leave, and now a mother lost her baby but found a man who was only 8years old. you stole his chance to be because from early he was always told to be a man but had no idea of what that concept meant but fought to live this form of identity because papa like a thief in the night you stole more than an innocent girls virginity, you stole her joy and left her empty to raise a man who resembled you, a man who never got a chance to be a child
You stole all she had and left nothing for me, not even the touch of a mothers love because all she knew of love laid ideally between her legs and you her mathematician divided them and multiplied and then subtracted yourself from the equation leaving her with no answer and she would go over the problem each time while staring at me wondering why things didn’t added up and now you left me with a mother and grandmother playing mommy and daddy,
And now at 28 I still feel the hold you have on her after three kids as if she was trying to find you in other men and even though I was forced to be a man, I was never man enough to fill her the way you did. all that you left for me was the scraps after you had your fill and that little taste never filled me, I had to die daily to myself, As I watched you live and there wasn’t any mourning or tears aside from the bellowing sound of my own voice as I laid myself to rest, I was forced to live with a stranger in a haunted house as the ghost of you plagued me and the stranger was me, I had to carry the burden of humanity which was to feel and not feel at the same time and I waited between both praying for direction, praying for you papa but you couldn’t hear me, You couldn’t hear me through long distances that disconnected us, you could hear me over the sound of your own pride that you somehow couldn’t put to the side so another man had to be my teacher, It was he who taught me the birds and the bees, but I still reserved a few duties for you. But all I got were empty seats and vacant memories of me standing there..
Papa,
Am i not flesh of your own flesh and blood of your own blood, then why have you allowed unspoken words to form sharp nails that pin me down at night, why have you allowed me to bear another man’s name in the absence of yours, why, did you not think of what would happen when young girls laid down and became young woman? Did you not know a boy would seek the love of his father like he seeks the love of himself but both nowhere to be found, I remember how much I would ingest heavy blows meant for you papa, some punches were mine and others were hers but both tasted the same… and I still went to bout for you, I gave hard jabs and stiff right hooks not noticing I was fighting myself, You set sail and left me ashore so papa why do I feel I like I’m the one drowning?

Dear Papa, I miss you but I think she misses you more..

By: Leon T.

a list of things remus lupin is good at:

  • finding people to purchase pot from
  • falling asleep with little or no warning, sometimes in the middle of class or conversations
  • never brushing his hair
  • smacking people in the face with his elbows when he’s excited about a story he’s telling
  • making bacon sandwiches
  • wearing mismatched socks
  • remembering in which old book he can find very obscure spells or pieces of information
  • giving head
  • making terrible puns and cackling at them even when nobody else in the entire world thinks they’re funny
  • winning arguments when he’s stoned
  • being emotionally masochistic and overdramatic inside his head but never telling anyone else about his problems
  • not holding children even when asked to pick them up
  • making lists that he throws away ten minutes later
2

TIME 100: The Most Influential People of 2017  - Viola Davis  

 By Meryl Streep: “When you spend your life embodying other lives, if you are successful, the one that belongs to you can silently slip behind. But Viola Davis’ hard-won, midlife rise to the very top of her profession has not led her to forget the rough trip she took getting there. And that is why she embodies for all women, but especially for women of color, the high-wire rewards of hard work and a dream, risk and faith.Viola has carved a place for herself on the Mount Rushmore of the 21st century—new faces emerging from a neglected mountain. And when she tells the story of how she got from where she was to where she is, it is as if she is on a pilgrimage, following her own footsteps and honoring that journey. Her gifts as an artist are unassailable, undeniable, deep and rich and true. But her importance in the culture—her ability to identify it, her willingness to speak about it and take on responsibility for it—is what marks her for greatness.”

Harry Potter House Aesthetics

When you think of Gryffindor, think of climbing up a tree and dirty shoes and tousled hair. Think of the vivid wind and the loud roar of the ocean when the waves break against the cliffs. Think of playing air guitar and rocking along with the beat of the music. Think of laying down backwards with a sigh and standing up in the next second. Think of people handing over their jacket because someone else is cold. Think of the feeling of freedom and eternity flooding through your veins.


When you think of Ravenclaw, think of small doodlings in the edges of school books. Think of sleepy eyes in the morning because you stayed up too late. Think of clouds passing by your window and the sky a beautiful mixture of white, blue and grey. Think of paper rustling when a page is turned and favorite passages underlined and comments in favorite books. Think of the slight ache in your hands because you’ve been typing or writing for so long, and stretching after sitting a long time. Think of paint on a table and paint on pieces of clothing. Think of the dreamer’s look profound eyes hold.

When you think of Hufflepuff, think of bright smiles and embracing hugs. Think of eating strawberries laying on your back in a field with your best friend, talking and laughing. Think of hugging someone from behind and covering their eyes, chirping “who is this who is this”. Think of counting on dandelions and putting flowers in your pockets to find them in the evening. Think of the faint smile on a face when no words are needed to tell the story.

When you think of Slytherin, think of sharing the deepest secrets at night. Think of perfectly clean mirrors and organized desks. Think of ice cold water gliding down your throat. Think of taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Think of the glint in an eye when someone knows something others don’t and the grin on their lips. Think of secret glances shared with people and then gazing down. Think of lips pressed together to not say what they thought.

Jordan Vogt-Roberts:

The local Vietnamese that we worked with in the Ninh Binh area were all so amazing and so much fun to work with. The scene the shot with brie is one of my favorite things in the film. Most of the crew went to lunch and I stayed back with Brie and we very freely shot this montage with all the local Vietnamese. It took them hours to go through make up and normally people would be exhausted but their enthusiasm was infectious. Brie and I fed off of their energy. I love what they bring to the film and the stories their faces tell.

Otp Fluff

Imagine your otp playing Hide & Seek (can also be smut)

Imagine your otp building a blanket fort

Imagine your otp watching a shitty show and that they love making fun of together

Imagine your otp telling ghost stories

Imagine your otp stuffing their faces with candy

Imagine your otp making s'mores

Imagine your otp googling stupid stuff

Imagine your otp pranking each other

Imagine your otp goofing off in the store

Imagine your otp in tickle fights and blowing raspberries

Imagine Person A taking care of Person B after a rough day

Imagine your otp lip reading random people incorrectly and trying to make the other laugh

Imagine your otp giving suprise gifts to each other! Like something small that they enjoy or their favorite candy or a doodle!

Imagine your otp reenacting shakespeare or high school musical or both at the same time

Imagine Person A working but Person B wants to cuddle

Imagine your otp having a water gun fight

Imagine your otp babysitting

Imagine Person A trying to wake up Person B (mission: impossible) (dududurududu-) (sorry)

Imagine your otp watching disney movies

Imagine your otp cuddling on a Saturday morning

Imagine your otp cooking breakfast

Imagine your otp stargazing

Imagine your otp telling each other funny childhood memories

Imagine Person A trying to get Person B to smile

Rowan's Tattoo
  • Rowan Whitethorn first met Lyria in a market place in Doranelle.
    • He was a prince, she was a girl who sold flowers
    • She was his mate and there was no one nor anything that could stop him from claiming her
  • But Rowan’s loving Lyria lost his favor with Maeve, Queen of the Fae
  • Rowan still yearned to prove himself to his Queen. He still wanted glory and redemption. And so when war came he answered the call.
    • In war Rowan proved himself. In war he got his glory, he got his redemption, he gained back the favor of the Fae Queen. But all at a cost.
  • The cost of Rowan’s winning was the loss of Lyria. The loss of his mate. And the loss of their unborn child.
  • In his shame Rowan left civilization, he turned his back on his cousins and friends and family.
  • Eventually Maeve found Rowan and in turn he became blood sworn to her.
    • Serving her for almost two centuries as commander, prince and protector of the lands
  • At some point Rowan got his tattoo that goes from his hand up the side of his face.
    • Telling the story of his failure, of his shame
  • Decades later Rowan met Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir of Mala fire-bringer, and Queen of Terrasen
    • Like him, she was broken, scarred, vengeful and empty.
  • But with the Queen of Terrasen, Rowan climbed out of the dark abyss he had been in for centuries
    • With her he stared to live again
  • But Rowan’s tattoo stays, even after he falls in love with his Fireheart, even after he marries his Carrenam.
    • Even after he learns that Lyria, the woman he loved and mourned, is not his mate.
  • Rowan still feels regret for what he had done, what he had failed to do. He still loves the woman who had once sold flowers in Doranelle. He knows he will never not love her.
  • But eventually Rowan changes his tattoo.
    • Now the tattoo starts with Lyria’s death, but it ends with Aelin.
    • It is now the story of his exacting revenge for Lyria’s murder. Of his wandering and his time with Maeve. Of meeting Aelin atop a roof in Varese, of training her, and helping her. Of becoming Carrenam and blood-sworn. Ending with the night he became her consort. When he became her husband.
  • Now the tattoo he wears is not the story of his grief, but the story of his rebirth.
2

There was no plan B. There can’t be. It was always, “this is who I am. I’m an actor.” I want to tell stories. I’m obsessed with exploring the human condition. The way humans navigate what it is to exist and facing mortality is we tell stories. Because life’s hard, you know? Look at the news; the world is unjust. It’s my way of coping with it.

4

after the last thing i draw Jamie’s immediate response was “AU where instead of captain america for a retainer Elise has batman” 

so here’s five million doodles of Gerome doing very important retainer duties for the little Nohrian princess, he takes his job increDIBLY seriously, thank you. Unlike the other royal sibs and their Awakening!retainers he is definitely the babysitter here, I bet he’d probably be like Jakob except not a butler and five times more straight-faced. 

I submit...

… Superman. He’s still Superman. Still Clark Kent. Still boy next door, still the every-man fighting the good fight trying to repair the world… he just has a Jack Harkness kind of attitude about who he’s attracted to and it doesn’t other him even a little bit.

Like, he never MENTIONS it, but he’s been all over the galaxy and has just accepted that the light beings from Aquarius-3 are super sexy, so are the lizard people from that one quasar system, and so is Lois Lane. It’s fine. People do not ask Superman who he is banging because that’s rude. If he actually told them who he bangs they might be SHOOK.