god damn i love this country :)

u know WHAT….. everyone keeps going on about whether or not reputation will top speak now and red and 1989 but NO ONE has said a single thing about reputation being better than FEARLESS and i’m… a LITTLE… concerned… that some of u don’t think it’s necessary??? that some of u think that reputation will just AUTOMATICALLY be BETTER than FEARLESS?????  a body of work that includes BREATHE and WHITE HORSE and FOREVER AND ALWAYS and LOVE STORY for GOD’S SAKE!!!!!! a body of work that is the most awarded album in the history of country music???? THAT WON ALBUM OF THE YEAR AT THE GRAMMY’S???? A BODY OF WORK THAT WAS WRITTEN WHEN THE SONGWRITER WAS IN DAMN HIGH SCHOOL AND STILL STANDS UP TO ALL THE ALBUMS THAT FOLLOWED IT NO MATTER WHAT U CENTIPEDES THINK OK  #FEARLESSHASVALUE

anonymous asked:

If the modern teenage losers club were a band, who would play what instrument or sing? And what type of music would they play?

OKAY BUT WHAT AN AMAZING QUESTION I AM HONORED?!?!?!

Okay so I am personally a sucker for the pop punk/emo genre and I already connect so many different songs to the Loser’s Club that I HAVE to say they are totally a pop punk/emo band.

A few reasons being that they hate their town, half of them have angsty crushes on each other, their home lives mostly suck, and they’re parents are shit. Literally all of these ingredients make a perfect pop punk/emo band.

ANYWAYS.

-Richie and Beverly are the lead vocals (think “A Part Of Me” by Neck Deep) but sometimes Richie shreds on the electric guitar. Beverly’s voice is beautiful and Richie has that perfect loud boy with problems kinda voice that fits the aesthetic perfectly. 

-Stan prefers to hold the tambourine but will play piano for their more angsty/sad songs. Bill will sometimes play piano beside him (it’s cute). 

-EDDIE IS ON THE MOTHER FUCKING DRUMS BECAUSE I SAID SO. DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH ENERGY THAT FUCKER HAS? He would be all over that! (Richie looks back at him and watches him in awe every time Eddie gets a drum solo during a song)

-Ben is bass guitar because basists need focus and he has so much of it with everything he does. Ben also helps write a lot of the songs with Beverly.

-Mike plays the banjo because he is a god damn country boy and I love the idea of him playing a banjo. Unfortunately, he can’t use it much with the band though so he settles with playing the electric guitar which he also loves and he’s honestly playing it constantly whether or not they’re at band practice or just hanging out.

-Bill plays the acoustic guitar because he’s a calming person and acoustic guitars are so soothing and so is he and they have him play acoustic for sadder songs. He sings but rarely. There’s one song on their album so far that he sings by himself and it’s a song about missing his brother (Think “Brother” by Kodaline but an acoustic version with Bill’s teenage voice).

GUYS HELP ME OUT WHAT’S THEIR BAND NAME?

anonymous asked:

same? like i love lin and im on his side and i dont blame him for being just fucking done with trump but i keep thinking that hes on some government list now and he may just disappear in the next three years

not even that.

i mean the horrifying masses of people whose wrath he has incurred. folks who happily leave death threats using their own damn facebook accounts.

baby killer. god’s gonna strike you down. foreigner. leave the country. you’re gonna get deported. your entire family’s gonna be deported. traitor.

these are all real things i’ve read with my own two eye balls aimed at him within the last few days.


This is a good time for me to add: don’t come here with that shit. You’ll get blocked. If you’re lucky.

i love my country so damn much. it’s not perfect at all, lord knows i have more than a handful of issues with it, and it for sure has a long way to go in terms of being better.

but the strength of the british people, the commitment overall to love that we have after every attack, the refusal to let our spirit be destroyed? the spirit that says “You may be attacking us with knives but i spent £6 on this pint of beer so if I’m running, I’m taking it the fuck with me”, the spirit that says “Oh you attack our children whilst they enjoy a concert? Fuck you, we won’t be cowed, we’ll put on another concert, a bigger concert, and we’ll celebrate love at it” - i love that spirit so much. my country isn’t perfect, but god damn do i love it with my whole heart

A little story in memory of Edith Windsor

This morning, I happened to see several articles making the rounds on Tumblr about how fighting so hard for same-sex marriage had been a mistake. Now, I’ve heard the arguments (you don’t work in queer theory without knowing them inside and out), and politically I’m more than a little sympathetic to the idea that the state shouldn’t get to determine the legitimacy of romantic and sexual unions, nor should special benefits be extended on the basis of one’s ability to enter into a state-sanctioned union. 

That being said, as we watch the postal vote in Australia (and all the homophobic rhetoric it’s stirring up) and reflect on the life and legacy of Edith Windsor, a lesbian trailblazer whose case eventually made it to the U.S. Supreme Court and brought down the “Defense of Marriage Act” (DOMA), I couldn’t help but reflect on what the morning of that Supreme Court decision did for me. 

In the buildup to the decisions that summer of 2013, I remember watching as my friends on Facebook one-by-one, then suddenly en masse, began changing their profile pictures to the HRC’s equality sign, then, after critiques of the HRC’s transphobic policies began to emerge, to a revamped version of the equality sign or to other symbols–rainbows and the like–meant to symbolize support for a decision in favor of same-sex marriage. After all, not only was DOMA under consideration, but so was California’s Prop 8. And as someone who’d spent my whole life in Catholic schools, spent years sleeping with women and hating myself for it, drinking too much and sleeping too little as I pushed away the women I had fallen for, let them finally pull away, too frustrated with dealing with someone so deep in the closet, this broad show of support was inspiring, if slightly unexpected. 

Earlier that year, I’d finally done it–I’d finally come out. Not to everyone, not yet to family, but to myself, then slowly but surely to those closest to me. I’d said the words, let them sink in as true, as something that wasn’t just a dirty secret, but something I could embrace. I threw myself into all the queer theory and LGBTQ+ literature I could find, and let myself learn to claim an absolutely inspiring lineage of writers and thinkers and activists. And suddenly, here were friends and family members coming out in droves in support of my right to marry. No, changing a profile picture isn’t much effort, and no, marriage doesn’t seem like a particularly “radical” act to many, and sure, it was already legal in some states. But in my conservative Catholic hometown? You bet your ass it meant something. The kids posting on Facebook that everyone deserved the same protections under the law–they hadn’t been raised on those ideas; in fact, not that many years earlier, we’d all been in senior year of Catholic high school together being forced to write “False” next to the question of whether “Gay marriage is actually marriage” if we wanted full credit on an exam. But here they were, having learned and changed their minds and stepping up to engage with conservative relatives on Facebook, in classrooms, and at the dinner table–practicing what real allyship looks like. 

Then that week finally came–the week when we knew the decisions would start being handed down. The night before the decision came down (not that we knew it would come that early in the week), my girlfriend and I went on what was, at the time, one of our first few dates, having only gotten together that month. She cooked me dinner at her apartment, and we shared a bottle of wine, and we talked for what felt like hours–about anything and everything. And by the time we looked up, it was already 2 in the morning, so, for the first time, I spent the night at her place, went to bed curled up around her (not that I slept a wink until about 6 in the morning, too nervous about snoring or moving to really relax). But I still had my arms around the woman I was not so slowly, though also not so surely (having missed all those teenage firsts during high school), falling in love with, and I was happy–happier than I had been in a long time.

That next morning, June 26, we woke up–both of us already running late for work. But before I could panic about whether I had time to shower or to find clothes that hadn’t been slept in, I scrolled through the notifications on my phone, finding two AP Breaking News alerts: DOMA and Prop 8 had been struck down. And, god, as much as I had wanted to believe that we’d be strong enough to survive a decision either way (because we had been, for so damn long, and we would be again), had convinced myself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, waking up to the news that my country had recognized my love as legal, even if I never thought it was a right they should have in the first place? It still mattered. Because I could roll over in bed and look down at the absolutely stunning woman next to me and know that if we wanted to get married, we didn’t need to fly across country to do so, wouldn’t have to worry about that right being stripped away almost as soon as it was granted, wouldn’t have to listen as our conservative neighbors and old Catholic school teachers from back home sneered and pointed out that it was “just a civil union” to legitimate their homophobia. And god, for that…for that I will always be grateful to Edith Windsor and the thousands of LGBTQ pioneers (many of whom were, of course, not white or cis or wealthy like Windsor, who was chosen to represent us in large part because she was all of those things) who fought for so many years–long before Stonewall and the HRC and the ACLU–to get us to where we are today and to inspire us to keep fighting the good fight even now.

ethnic ambiguity; or, what is lily evans? a collection of microaggressions

i am neither pakistani nor turkish, but i am (like lily here) ethnically ambiguous. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve been asked what i am, told i am not asian enough or not white enough, called exotic or “oriental” (good gOD do not call me oriental), and how much i’ve watched my mom and grandmother suffer for their race in this damn country. so this is for @prongsyouignoramus, but this is also for me. may we someday have canon characters who look like us. love you, precious human <3

-

• she goes by lily, has ever since the first time in primary that a teacher refused to call her by her first name

• she’s always rather liked her full name, ayşa lily evans, she never thought it was that difficult to say, but the teachers and the other kids cant or dont want to learn to say ay-sha, so lily it is

• by age ten she knows her family’s story a lot. her mother is half pakistani (punjab, she thinks, but some details are fuzzy) and half turkish, moved to england in 1951 shortly after india and pakistan split.

• dad learnt turkish for her mother, they say, and lily always liked the language, but her favorite is the way urdu rolls off her tongue

• tuney (mariam petunia) has a hard time with the languages though, she tries really hard but the words dont always sound right when she says them

• she and her sister dont look very much alike at all, petunia looks a lot like dad with blonde hair and a small english nose, but tuney’s skin gets really dark in the summer and she never ever burns, and she has their mama’s long, elegant fingers

• lily looks a lot more like mama, darker skin and kind of rounder nose. she’s short like mama too, has thicker and coarser hair than petunia, but their hands and chins are absolutely identical

• its hard to go to the store with just her sister and her dad, the other people always look at her like she’s the odd one out and the clerks always ask if she’s petunia’s friend from school

• the languages have always been harder for tuney, the prayers too, but they both learn really young how to make chawal kofta and the flat, oven baked bread with mama. Petunia was always better at cooking than lily, but lily still treasured the times with mama making kofte and paratha and whatever else they wanted for dinner

• when she goes to hogwarts, the tables are filled with shepherds pie and everyone’s favorite english foods, but she’s never been able to freely eat meaty english food before in case its not halal, so she has to settle for the vegetable options (which are still lovely and delicious of course)

• professor mcgonagall is the first to notice little first year lily evans isnt eating much at meals, and assures her matter-of-factly that they make accommodations at meals. professor mcgonagall becomes a fast favorite of lily’s

• lily loves her new housemates to bits, but something makes her a bit uncomfortable when little blonde emmaline vance asks “what are you” during their third evening together

• “dad’s british, mama’s pakistani and turkish” she says hesitantly, though what she wants to say is “i’m a person”

• she loves hogwarts, really she does, but she’s also kind of uncomfortable because people are always asking what she is or where she’s from, what muggles are like, and she just wants to curl up under mama’s shawls and eat desserts because she knows there’s not gelatin in them

• “i’m british” she says exasperatedly one day in third year when some boy asks her what she is for the twelfth time that year

• lily’s always been close to her culture, she loves the smell of mama’s mendhi and the cabbages pickling in the pantry, misses speaking turkish with her parents, practicing her writing after school

• petunia’s never been like that, maybe it’s because she’s the firstborn or maybe because no one believes she’s mama’s daughter, but in the summer before lily’s 7th year she brings home a man who wrinkles his nose at the keema aloo they’re having for dinner, and lily just wants to scream at him for his obvious disdain and disrespect but petunia doesn’t want her around anymore, so she eats her meal but doesn’t taste it, and escapes to her room as quickly as she can get away

• she’s back at school, irritated at the world, and the first ravenclaw who calls her features “exotic” and “different” gets punched straight in the nose and earns her a detention on her first week as head girl

• the nib of her quill breaks one day in charms, and she mutters a barrage of turkish and urdu swears, and she doesnt notice james potter look up at her from across the aisle

• he approaches her that evening, “were you swearing in hindi earlier in charms?”

• “urdu, actually,” she says, surprised. “i thought you spoke tamil”

• “i know a couple hindi words” he shrugs. “mostly the swears”

• “typical,” she rolls her eyes and walks away

• she realizes later in bed that james potter has never once asked her what she “is”

• she volunteers the information herself, next time they’re on heads patrol. “mama’s pakistani and turkish. my grandfather’s from west punjab.”

• “i always wondered” he replies easily.

• “why didnt you ask?”

• “because i know what cultural insensitivity feels like”

• a week later remus approaches her. “so. lil-ay” he says casually. “you got a favorite food?”

• she smirks. “you ever heard of lahana turşusu? Or aloo ki bugia? Baklava?”

• remus grins in reply. “no, but i can pass the message along.”

• that evening, sprinkled among the mincemeat pies and hearty stews, lily finds pickled cabbage and half circle potatoes, baklava for dessert, and she shoots a grin at james potter who sits down the row. he pushes his glasses up his nose, returns a shy smile in return, and helps himself to a heaping plate of aloo ki bugia. she asks him later how he did it; he introduces her to the house elves in return.

• james and lily swap travel stories on their next patrol. James talks excitedly about his summers on the southern coast of Tamil Nadu, of curry and spices and how the english can’t seem to be bothered to flavor their food. In return, she tells him about the palaces and museums of Lahore, how she loves the sounds of the call to prayer, the hurried bustle of the streets of Istanbul, and agrees fiercely about the English fear of flavor.

• “my real name’s janardhan” he says quietly one day. “nobody can say it though, so i go by james.”

• “my first name is ayşa” she replies. “it means ‘she who lives.’ mine’s spelled the turkish way, so no one wants to learn to pronounce it. so i go by my middle name, lily.”

• its nice, she thinks, having a friend who understands. it’s different of course; she’s never been denied help or been given lesser treatment by Slughorn, she’s never been outright bullied or hated for her skin color, but he’s never been asked what kind of asian he is or dealt with the odd misbalance of not quite belonging in a category. They both know how it feels to see their mother hated for her skin color, her clothing, her religion, her culture; and she finds it comforting to know that next time john davies calls her exotic, james potter will be near to hex him for her.

Old People: “Fucking immigrants.  Taking our jobs, not speaking proper english.  Go back to your own damn country.  Only true americans like me can live here.”

Old People: “I don’t want gays to get married.  It makes me uncomfortable, even though it has absolutely nothing to do with me.”

Old People: “What’s with all this love for trans people all of a sudden?  It’s like an epidemic!  God made you one way…at least that’s what I believe, and what I believe is always right.”

Young Person: *posts a selfie*

Old People: “Ugh your generation is so entitled.  The most narcissistic and selfish generation ever.”

I am not going to type this in all caps but imagine me shouting it to the void anyway because it’s fundamentally important to me.

If you take the existence of god(s) as a given, a universal fact confirmable by divine blessings that regularly manifest as observable miracles via devoted followers, then it stands to reason that these gods must also hold or be held to some variation of the deistic watchmaker theory to ensure free will. They create the world, they create mortals, and then they leave it all to its own devices.

This goes both ways. The gods cannot interfere with the plans of mortals when they are good, and they cannot do so when they are evil. They may grant mortals their power to act in their steed – up to and including the exceedingly rare, exceedingly limited and exceedingly brief direct intervention granted only to their most faithful and powerful conduits – but they cannot act on their own.

Because divine interference on the mortal plane inherently undermines free will. And moreover, as Sarenrae told Vox Machina last night, it risks the entire system.

Remember, you have to break a watch in order to fix it. It must be opened and stopped and parts must be removed and rearranged to put them back in order and there is always, always a chance that you are going to fuck up and make the entire thing unusable forever. This is comparable to the “sparks” that Matt has talked about in the past: massive events that fundamentally change the world on a planar level with mortal existence being caught in the mess.

That sort of risk is not worth it for anything less than extraplanar interference that threatens the very fabric and function of reality.

The idea that the non-interference of god(s) is somehow a moral failing on the part of said gods or a viable argument against their existence or purpose is a hilariously self-centered flaw of human reasoning. The individual lives of mortals, even an entire city or country or continent of mortals, does not matter on a divine scale. 

Mortal fate is in mortal hands, and that’s exactly how it should be.

….

Matt’s gods make me so damn happy you guys, you have no idea how much I love them.

anonymous asked:

oh god, our lovely president just banned transgender people from fighting in the military :))) it's like, damn trump i bet that'll solve all the problems that we've got going on in the usa, genius work!! i'm honestly pretty ashamed lmao

oh fuck dude, that sucks :/// geez i feel bad for yall for having him run the country

You wanna really show a fanfic author you love them?
Marry ‘em

EDIT:

okay I felt bad leaving out the others I know of cause they’re so cute you guys, so cute.

So of course there’s @dinovia-grant who met her wife through the Startreck Voyagers fandom

Then @rtarara who I’m fairly certain met her wife in a roleplaying forum where her wife changed the gender of her character to make it gay (so the story fit better).

And then!! There’s @zennie-fic and @inspectorboxer who are married to each other and I s2g, no lie, they are the cutest people. FOR EXAMPLE. One time we were all in a group chat together and Zennie wanted something and Box saw it in the chat and went and got it for her and I was like, “god damn, that’s love.”

So anyway, I wanted to share. They’re all so lovely and I am so impressed. What initiative it takes to cross the country to get your bae

anonymous asked:

hi leda! i just reread the portrait (still love it!!!) and it reminded me that you mentioned working on one from stiles pov. i was just wondering what are the odds of that still happening? i love your fics and art!

The odds are…probably not very good. It never got past a doc of unconnected sentences I thought were funny at the time, and the only part that’s longer than one or two sentences was the moment Stiles saw Derek’s portrait for the first time:


Behind that plain wrapping was his fiancé. The man he would marry, the face he would be looking at for the rest of his life once he hit eighteen, that he would hopefully grow to love despite this all being for politics. He just had to unwrap it.

With one last reassuring smile and nod from Scott, he ripped back a corner of the brown paper.

And screamed.

Because the eye that glared out at him didn’t want to marry him, it wanted him dead where he stood.

Scott waved off the guards who burst into the room and came around the frame to see for himself. Even he had to take a moment to scrape together something positive to say.

The portrait was…well, it was a portrait alright. It was about as portrait-y as a portrait could get, right down to the stiff and proper posture and deep, disapproving frown. Stiles hadn’t even known someone so young could look that disapproving, or that it was possible for an artist to so meticulously capture the precise moment a man realized he was capable of murder.

“He’s…” Scott stopped and cocked his head to the side while he thought. Stiles did as well, because there was a chance it could look less frightening at a slight angle, and he was desperate (it didn’t look any less frightening at a slight angle).

“He’s distinguished,” Scott decided.

Stiles squinted at him. “He’s homicidal.”

“He could be both.”

The eye glared at them through the torn paper.

“Scott, my future husband is going to kill me!”


Beyond that, the only concrete plan I had was Stiles being perpetually more terrified of each glaring portrait of Derek that arrived, and then leaving the country to avoid them:

The farther he got from that, the better, so it was perfectly reasonable that he had to travel to an island off the far southern coast to study the mating habits of the Slender-billed Gull. No amount of his father’s disbelieving squint would make him break; mating habits of very specific birds were fascinating. 

He loved birds, god damn it.

and i’m trapped. trapped inside myself. i want to run. i want to scream. i want to be free. i want to be everywhere but here. anywhere but here. but i’m so god damned trapped. inside myself. my house. this fucking street i grew up in with all the happy memories. this town. hell this god damned country. i need an escape. i need to leave. but i’m too much of a coward to do it. to pull the trigger. to slit my wrists. to tie that noose. so i allow myself to sit here. and to suffer. and to be trapped with no way out
—  ol.t // trapped in this place called hell
  • me: Matt is such an idiot i fucking can't i hate him, this dumbass doesn't remember info about his own songs and albums, he doesn't come to my country, he doesn't play b-sides and rarities and showbiz songs live anymore, he is trolling us aLL THE TIME AGAGAGSHDJWUFIHDJUDBW
  • me 5 seconds later: oh my god awwww Matt is so cute, i love him so much, look how fab this little chicken is, holy mother of zetas he so damn hOT I AM DYING AAAA OMG WHAT R U DOIN' TO THE GUITAR MATT I'M GONNA FAINT NOW, HE HUGGED A FAN I'M CRYING I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WORSHIP THIS MAN :')

bugsieplusone  asked:

rant topic: Dragon Age Dwarves

this is also for @lumateranlibrarian and @dearophelia because all of you have fucking good taste! 

Okay. Dwarves. DWARVES. You guys. I can’t even begin to describe how much I love dwarves, especially DA dwarves. BUT I’M GONNA FUCKING TRY. 

So first off, they’re complicated. There are so many different types of dwarves. You have your Orzammar dwarves. Your surface dwarves. Then there are dwarves in other countries, like Tevinter. There are the Kal-Sharok dwarves (side note, I want there to be a Kal-Sharok dwarven companion in DA4 so badly it hurts).

Their lore is really amazing, with their thaigs and their culture. I mean, they fucking eat moss. That’s pretty damn badass. 

I know everyone is like ‘ooh Solas and the elvhen gods’ when I’m just sitting here like ‘THE FUCKING TITANS ARE WAKING UP PEOPLE!’ My dream is that some day the dwarves remember how to use magic at some point in the series. 

And my greatest fear? That the game turns into a dwarf-elf showdown. Old god verses the titans. BECAUSE THAT WOULD BOTH BE AWESOME AND TERRIBLE. 

Real talk though. If you’ve never played a dwarf in Origins or Inquisition, please consider giving them a try. Dwarves are amazing. Like, I want to cry because dwarves are so fucking amazing. If you do, I WANT TO HEAR ALL ABOUT YOUR DWARF.

diremechanica

claudius as hamlet’s father headcanon here we go: all along, king hamlet is the real “bad guy” so to speak. maybe he was abusive to gertrude. idk. point is, gertrude had very strong reason to hate and fear him. she started having an affair with claudius, the kinder brother, pretty early on. therefore, hamlet. anyway. king hamlet is terrifying and powerful and gertrude doesn’t know what to do, so claudius wants to help her. king hamlet is the king so it’s not like they can do anything

gertrude can’t exactly get a divorce, or leave. king hamlet has complete control over her. the only way out of this is to kill hamlet. so that’s what claudius does. obviously young hamlet mourns, because he doesn’t see the whole picture. king hamlet’s ghost, who is serving eternity in purgatory because of all the awful deeds of his life, comes to him to tell him about claudius.

 adultery is seen so much more horrifically in those days than it might be seen these days, given the circumstances i’m proposing. so hamlet’s ready and raring to kill claudius. meanwhile, claudius and gertrude are being shallow and selfish and rude to hamlet because they’re trying so hard to fake it– claudius doesn’t know how to be king, not really. they’re terrified but they need to cover it up. they get married so that gertrude doesn’t have to rule, and so they don’t have to be secret, etc. but hamlet is still the next heir because he is properly claudius’s son. 

ANYWAY the “thoughts remain below” monologue is claudius saying like, “yeah, i killed him, and i don’t regret it because for me and my love it was the right thing to do.” he gets that in his religion, in his country, he is now damned to hell, but he still can’t feel that it was truly morally wrong, and so he can’t honestly pray for salvation/absolution. aNywAY there are some thoughts, don’t know how substantiated by canon they are but ???? there’s one possible interpretation. have fun with that

Holy shit. This is amazing. Thank you so much, I’m sorry it took me a while to post this (the mobile app deleted it right after I found it but (thank god) it was still open in my tabs and I never realized it!!)

anonymous asked:

Hey yo about that reincarnation fic, I've seen fics where the characters go thru multiple reincarnations so that way you could potentially all three at once, like Patroclus/Achilles, Grantaire/Enjolras, and then Steve/Bucky... the only hard part would maybe be deciding who corresponds with who, ya know? idk just an idea if you are actually gonna write that fic, but it will be amazing regardless of what you end up doing!

YEAH THAT’S THE PLAN

ok so steve would be achilles (hero with a curse whose body never really felt like his own, choosing patroclus even against the wills of the gods because his love is just that ardent) and enjolras (revolutionary before his time whose ideals and faith cause him to give up his life for a country that does not love him back)

bucky would be patroclus (sidekick whose adoration makes him choose to live & die for his lover, painfully aware of his mortality, well-tested by the gods) and grantaire (disillusioned pessimist who sticks around and willingly dies for enjolras, even though the war enjolras is fighting isn’t a war he would have chosen on his own)

they keep trying and trying, fighting the same damn war, and fighting their way back to each other. until they get it right

God I love you guys

@witch-of-the-west-country @kittenstorm @doctorboo82 @angelmarya24 especially. And damn do I miss @residentevil-fandomhazard and @ivannesque. Y'all are so amazing and it hurts that I can’t give you hugs sometimes. To all my mutuals (especially the ones that I haven’t tagged it’s 2 in the morning and my insomniac ass is tired and emotional) “I fecking love you so much, don’t ever stop being you. We’re all in and out with our Tumblrs and talking to one another but I never forget you guys.”

*drops mic and passes out in a puddle of tears, surrounded by half finished fics and coffee grounds*

Happy Fourth of July

A/N: Hey guys! So here’s a special fic to celebrate the 4th of July! Hope you like!

Tagging: @sammyxorae @twoeggsonehart @clever-girl-velocistar237 @kangdaesungofficial @sammys-angel @samanthasmileys

Author: @totallysupernaturaloneshots

Word Count: 1,687

Characters: God!Chuck x Reader

Pairing: God!Chuck x Reader

Warnings: None, really. Swearing maybe? Some fluff as well. Oh, the use of the Lord’s name in vain. Lol.

Your name: submit What is this?

Summary: It’s the Fourth of July and Chuck decides to take the reader out for a day at the beach and to a place for some special fireworks.

Originally posted by i-hate-all-people-in-the-world

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