It’s like the majority of people on tumblr get their news from a reblogged gif😒
1) the old man (Warren Beatty) didn’t announce a winner. He just stood there looking confused and was asking his co presenter (Faye Dunaway) to double check.
2) Faye didn’t properly read the card and just blurted out LaLa Land.
3) The cards are printed in a way that Warren didn’t know for sure if he had been given the wrong card or Emma Stone was the producer of LaLa Land.
4) There are 2 sets of cards printed in case of anything catastrophic that might happen, just so the real results are preserved and revealed.
5) The LaLa Land producers knew way before the first acceptance speech ended that the wrong winner was announced and instead of politely giving way the stage, they stood there and went through their speeches. Jimmy, Warren, the producers were trying to be polite by not just booting them off but they let them know they didn’t win. It must have been hard for them but they should have given way and let the production do their jobs.
6) There was no reason for Jordan Horowitz (producer of LaLa Land) to snatch that card out of Warren’s hand as he was trying to come up to explain what happened as it was his award to present. He was trying to correct a mistake that wasn’t his but given the fact that he was the presenter, he was the public face of this. I understand he was pissed, but he was still rude.
7) Emma Stone’s “I had my card the whole time” was a bit ignorant. Regardless if at the time she didn’t know there were two sets, she basically was calling Warren Beatty a liar without knowing all the facts.
8) There was no conspiracy to steal Moonlight’s moment. Someone fucked up and fucked up royally. They will probably never work the oscars again, never get another live tv gig and possible not work in the industry anymore.
9) The only thing that may have slightly (and I say slightly because I think the Moonlight people have been overly gracious towards the LaLa Land people) dampened Moonlight’s moment was the fact that you could tell they knew way early on they didn’t win and still stood on stage and gave their speeches until finally production decided to step in and move them off. Only then did Jordan Horowitz attempt to correct things after they refused to give way.
10) Jimmy Kimmel is a dunce. Nobody cares what he thinks about who should keep the award.
Most people are born with three names tattooed on their wrist: Their true love, their biggest enemy, and their greatest ally. You only have one name. (X)
You were walking slower than normal, the tall stack of paper and envelopes weighing you down and throwing off your balance. You could feel your purse slipping from your shoulders, and your arms were growing tired as you walked across the lobby of your office building. You took a few rushed steps towards the stairwell, the elevator had unfortunately stopped working. You leant the stack of papers against the wall, readjusting your grip before attempting to ascend the narrow stairwell. Sadly, your efforts were in vain.
Rushed footsteps were approaching fast from behind until suddenly, a body slammed into your shoulder. You gasped in horror as you watched the stack of paper in your hands topple to the ground. You looked up, expecting an apology, but all you saw was the figure of an unfamiliar man with blonde hair, dressed in a suit, hastily dashing up the stairway, skipping every second step.
“Rude,” you muttered to yourself, hearing his footsteps grow quieter as he ascended. You glanced down at the mess in front of you, stretching out your hands to soothe the ache that had developed from carrying the stack. You glanced down at your wrists as you massaged the joint, watching the words written on the skin crease with your movements.
Request: “peter parker smut where the reader is
either the daughter of an avenger or maybe just an avenger or something but she
lives in the avengers compound (let’s just say peter decided to take tony up on
his offer) and she’s dating peter and he sneaks into her room and just as
they’re about to start round 2 one of the avengers catches them”
Peter Parker x Reader
team.” Tony gave a forced smile before quickly retreating to get a drink.
to Peter, who was still heaving with bloody tears in his suit. You pulled him
by the arm wordlessly to your room, sitting him down while you retrieved your
first aid kit. He was still a little dazed from the fight, but as you pulled
out a clean needle he gave you an adorable smile.
say ‘this isn’t going to hurt’ I’m going to-“
You smirked. Peter huffed a laugh, leaning back as you started stitching his
I think we’re too good for each other
sometimes. We can barely get out a sentence without the other knowing how it’ll
end.” You shook your head with a rogue smile. “We’re becoming a gross, sappy
couple. I hate it.”
Pure unadulterated terror courses through Alec’s veins the moment the institute lights up with heavenly light.
He books it towards the op centre, running faster than he ever has in his entire life (without the help of a speed rune, anyway) and skitters to a halt at the sight of the dead downworlders that cover the floor.
He steps through them gingerly, glancing around as he recognises seelies and werewolves, before looking up at his parabatai; Clary and Simon right behind him.
He barely hears what any of them are saying, too distracted by Jace’s distraught expression, the sudden fear and oh god, where’s Magnus?
My sister doesn’t even stir when he enters my room. His footsteps are silent, but the air gets so cold that I see my breath. My little sister shivers and cuddles even closer to me, wrapping her tiny arms around my waist. I hope she stays asleep.
I know he’s tall and thin, but that’s all I can see. My room is so dark that everything else about him is masked in shadows. My breathing picks up. He’s standing by my side of the bed.
He stares at me and as he does, the spots where his eyes should be begin to glow an eerie and vacant white. He continues to stare at me, unblinking and still. Finally he moves.
He lifts his hand up and gently places his bony and icy thumb to the swollen part of my left eye. He rubs it soothingly. I still don’t move. He adds more chilling fingers to my face and gently trails them down my cheek where an old scar is before he runs his index and middle fingers over my lips. The swelling has gone down, but my bottom lip is still split.
His hand leave my face and moves to my arm. He grabs my right wrist and pulls it up to examine. My self-made marks of mutilation have faded, but are still fairly easy to spot if one is looking closely.
The noise that emerges from his throat is soft, but there is the faintest emotion of despair and amusement to it.
He delicately places it back on my bed and then picks up my left arm. And now his hold on me tightens painfully, but I still don’t make a sound and my sister still remains asleep. And that’s all that matters.
He chuckles as he trails his cold fingers over my freshest cuts and they bleed through the hastily-made bandages I put over them. But these self-made cuts are different from all my others. These cuts weren’t made in a fit of rage or in a moment of selfish weakness where I forgot about my sister and wished for death.
No, this new cuts are…pretty. They are more carefully made and decorate my arm with beautiful dripping red designs of eyes, pentacles, numbers and symbols I don’t understand and didn’t bother to look up. What I put on my arm made no difference to me. All that matters is that it worked.
His lips part and I see a mouthful of sharp yellow teeth smiling at me. He leans closer to me until his lips touch my ear. Cold, he’s so cold.
“Slow or quick?” His voice is soft and whispery, but I still hear the amusement and pity laced with each word.
I look at my sister. I can’t see her newest set of bruises in the dark, but I know they’re there.
“Slow,” I hiss.
He chuckles again and leaves my room. I hear my parents scream. I smile, hugging my sister closer.
Rush is a Canadian rock band composed of Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart. The band formed in 1968 and went through
several reconfigurations between then and 1974. Rush is known for its musicianship, complex compositions, and eclectic lyrical motifs drawing heavily on science fiction, fantasy, and philosophy. The band’s musical style has changed several times over the years, from a blues-inspired hard rock beginning, later moving into progressive rock,
and including a period marked by heavy use of synthesizers. In the
early 1990s, Rush returned to a guitar-driven hard rock sound, which has
continued to the present. (x)