hating tagging it as that but i worked hard on this okay

The Project


“Yeah he’s pretty messy.” Mello sighed putting the wrappers that were on his bed in the bin before sitting down. “Believe it or not this isn’t actually it at its worst.”

Mello wondered briefly if he could actually get on well with Near if he tried. It would bring them both advantages like impressing L and completely the project with a high grade. But if the worked well this time then they may get put together again for other tasks.

It was a gamble but Mello couldn’t afford to get a bad grade so he’d have to be nice to Near.

“Yeah.” Mello took some papers out of a folder Rodger gave him. He read over it quickly. “Typical murder case.” He stated before giving Near the case file.

Near briefly glanced back at the other side of the room as he mumbled absently to himself, “I can’t imagine what would be considered ‘worse’ than this…” His own room was always clean and organized, so he wasn’t used to seeing a place in such disarray.

He turned his attention back to the blonde, watching as the other read over the file. Near was pleasantly surprised that the other was acting so civil towards him, the tense atmosphere having mostly died down.

As he looked at the other, he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last. Mello had always been a difficult one for him to read, after all.

Reaching for the folder, Near couldn’t help but frown slightly upon hearing that it was a murder case. He wasn’t particularly fond of cases pertaining to violent crimes, but was confident in his abilities nonetheless.

“This should be rather simple,” Near thumbed through the papers, eyes scanning over all of the information held within them, “Although knowing L, he’s likely created this case in an attempt to challenge the both of us. Considering he specifically wanted you and I paired together, I’m assuming this is something he thinks neither of us can solve individually.”

Near paused for a moment to glance idly around the room, as if searching for something. “Do you by chance have playing cards?” He asked curiously, seemingly haven completely changed the subject.



Okay so @fukcinglouis aka Alyvia aka my best friend tagged me so that I’ll put together my aesthetic using only pictures on my device and basically I have a collage I made with Dodie lyrics, this sign from my work proving that I’m a mistake, my most recent tattoo, a selfie I took at 3 am after crying, memento mori, the most recent picture of me that’s become a meme, a photo from my first yellowcard show back in 2011, a conversation with one of my favorite people that made me happy and this picture of vin diesel liv and I have sent each other 47 times.

I yeah anyone who wants to do it, if you’re petty like me and have screenshots of everything it’s hard to sort through it all to come up with quality aesthetic content

Damn Stool

Yes okay the picture is bad but the point is Yoongi looks slightly official and Jimin is clinging to him.


“I hate tall people.  I hate tall people everywhere.  I hate tall people in offices, I hate tall people as my roommate (fucking Taehyung), and most of all” Jimin grunted as he shifted his body weight to an even more uncomfortable position “I hate every single goddamn tall person who has ever worked at this godforsaken grocery store.”

He gasped quietly from over-exertion as he settled back down on his feet, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth and sucking all the fight out of him.  He was so done.  Done with this entire thing.  Jimin swore to god the next paycheck he got was being spent on 4-inch thick insoles because he never wanted to go through this again.

Every single time he had to get something from the tall shelves at the small, family-owned grocery store that he worked at, he wanted to scream.  He was not made for this!  He, Park Jimin, standing at 177 cm, was not made to reach things on shelves that reached heights of 210 cm!  This was not the way of the world!

Working at Min’s Meat & More (we have everything you need – and more!) was supposed to be an easy side job to pay for his simple meals of instant ramen and any damage one Kim Taehyung caused to their apartment.  It was not supposed to be the source of all his stress in life.

However, when he had been told to take over the late-night stocking shift, his employer (who hadn’t even bothered to tell him in person, instead choosing to hid behind an carefully formal e-mail) had failed to mention that he would spend half of his shift struggling to push boxes onto shelves that were even higher than the grades he was expected to achieve.  

“Sounds like some kind of deep shit Tae would say after hitting up a blunt.”  He muttered, regretting that last thought the second it crossed his mind.  Taehyung high was not something he ever wanted to see again – or hear, because wow he did not know that microwaves could make that kind of sound but putting both Jimins sweatbands and Taehyungs rubber duckin one and turning it up to see how long it would take to ‘make the ducky swim in Jimins sweat’ would wrench that kind of noise from anything.

“Fucking Taehyung.”  He groaned, rolling his muscles in an attempt to get himself worked up enough to shift the next box onto the shelf.

“Who’s Taehyung?”  A rough voice asked, the sound scaring Jimin almost as much as that time he caught Namjoon getting off to pictures of Converse.

“Holy shit!”  He jumped, turning to the source of the voice beside him, almost falling over in surprise when he saw who had uttered the question.

The guy was pretty.  Like, seriously pretty.  He had pale skin, creamy and really soft looking, with sleepy brown eyes and a mouth that curled just the tiniest bit in the corners, his delicate features making him look almost like a fairy out of some fantastical story.  Not to mention the messy, light pink hair, swept under a beanie but showing just enough that the tips of his ears peeked out and damn if ears could be considered attractive, this man was attractive as all get out.

Realizing that he had been staring for longer than was considered socially acceptable (thanks to a light cough and small smirk from the stranger) he straightened up and fixed a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry sir, but we are past closing hours.  You can come back tomorrow – we open at 7 and close at 9!”  He stated cheerfully.  No matter how cute this guys was, he was not getting fired because some random guy managed to get inside their grocery store past hours.  

Wait, what?  “Um, sir, how did you get in?”  He asked, immediately disregarding the mans lack of response to his previous question in light of his new discovery.

The man just smirked, his eyes twinkling.  “Do you need a little help with that?”  He nodded at the boxes in Jimin’s cart – obviously he had been there when Jimin was struggling with the height of the shelf.

Jimin bristled with both his ignorance of Jimin’s question and the implied insult to Jimin’s height.  He drew himself up, feeling his face flushing and hoping that the storeroom was dark enough to hide it.  “I don’t need any help.  And even if I did, you wouldn’t be much help.  You don’t even look that much taller than me.”  A frown drew itself across his face – he didn’t normally get this mad, but his height was not something to joke about.

The man’s smirk deepened.  “That’s hyung to you.  And I’ll bet I can get that box up there in half the time it took you.”  He crossed his arms, waiting for Jimin to retaliate.

“You don’t even look older than me, hyung. And it’s a deal.”  He stuck his hand out firmly, a sneer of his own stuck on his face.  He was pretty sure that this delicate woodland elf wasn’t going to be able to lift the box up from the cart, let alone over his head and onto a shelf much taller than him.

The man shook his hand, and Jimin blushed even harder with the contact, yanking his hand away before he could get lost in the feeling.

“You’re up.”  He said, stepping back and briefly wondering why he was challenging a stranger in a dark warehouse in the middle of the night, but the thought was lost in his confusion as he watched the man bend down and rummage in the dark space underneath the shelf.

Jimin snorted.  “What’re you doing?  The shelf’s up there.”  This entire thing was a lau-

His jaw dropped as he watched the stranger pull out a stool from underneath the shelving unit and easily transfer a box from the cart to the shelf.

“O-oh my god.”  He pouted as soon as he realized that he had been tricked.  “You cheater!”

The guy was practically in tears laughing so hard.  If Jimin hadn’t been so mad at him he would’ve thought his gummy smile and crescent eyes were cute.

“You are SUCH a cheater!  I can’t believe you!”  Jimin was actually less upset about the fact that he had lost and more by the fact that he had been struggling for the past 2 months when that stupid little stool had been hiding there the entire time.

“I didn’t cheat!  I won fair and square, and now I you have to pay up.”  Mister Evil, as Jimin had named him, had straightened up from clutching his stomach and was now looking at Jimin expectantly.

“W-what?! We didn’t even agree on anything!” Jimin flushed as he realized he didn’t even have his wallet on him.  ‘Genius.  Just embarrass yourself even more.’

“Actually, we shook on it.  So now you HAVE to do what I say.”  Jimin was too busy mentally berating himself to notice how close Mister Evil was, his head snapping up when he heard his voice again, this time close enough to feel his breath curling around him.

He only looked up in time to see a split second of Mister Evil’s grinning face before he was kissing him.  His lips were soft, the edges slightly chapped as they pressed against his.  He could feel Mister Evil’s hand coming up to cup his cheek, deepening the kiss but only slightly.  It was sweet and soft, and Jimin found himself leaning forward after the other man had pulled away.

He was wearing a self-satisfied smirk as he looked at Jimin, his hand still resting by his cheek, and Jimin could only blurt out a bewildered “What?”

“That was the bet.  I won, so you had to give me what I wanted.”  The man said, finally stepping back to look at Jimin, a careful look hiding from beneath his laughing gaze.  “I wanted a kiss.”

“I-I … well.  That was nice, but I don’t even know your name.”  He sighed, accepting that this guy was very cute and that Jimin was very okay with being kissed by him.  He figured that if that was going to happen a lot, he might as well get this guy’s name.

And there was the cute smile again, his gums peeking out from just underneath the curl of his lips.  “I’m Yoongi, but everybody just calls me Suga.”

“Sugar?” Jimin teased, having forgotten all about his anger now – the kiss and the comfort of being in the company of this ‘Suga’ was strangely familiar, and he had settled into the state of mind that he only slipped into when he was around his closest friends.

“No, brat.” Yoongi reached over to swat the back of his head, the action almost too friendly considering that they had just kissed. “Suga.  You better learn it.  It’s not nice to forget your date’s name.”

“Yeah, okay.  All you did was pull a stool out of your sleeve and suddenly I’m supposed to date you?” Jimin paused.  “Actually, how did you know the stool was there?”

“Uh.” Yoongi shifted his weight, smiling a bit before looking Jimin in the eye and saying “Well, I kinda put it there.”

“What? When?  Only employees can get in here.”  Jimin was suddenly very confused.  He knew all the employees here – he would’ve remembered someone as cute as Yoongi.

“Yeah. I mean, technically I don’t count as an employee, but I still have the key.”  He replied, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Ummm… should I be reporting you to Mr. Min?”  Jimin had never actually met the boss but he figured that he was the best figure of authority he could threaten this Yoongi character with.

And suddenly Yoongi was laughing ridiculously hard again, doubling over as he wiped fake tears from his eyes.  “O-oh my god.  Are you serious?  You really don’t know?”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’ what do I not know?”  Jimin was panicking.  He felt like there was a hidden camera somewhere.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself properly.” Yoongi extended his hand to Jimin, a broad smile spreading across his face.  “I’m Min Yoongi, founder of ‘Min’s Meat & More’.”

“Fuck.” Were the only words out of his mouth as he stared at the cute boy in front of him.  “Fuck.  I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to kiss you, please don’t fire me.”

“Woah woah, calm down, I’m not going to fire you.  Besides, I kissed you.”  Yoongi – Mr. Min – he corrected himself, slung an arm around Jimin’s shoulders.  “But I mean, if you really want to make it up to me, you can go for coffee with me after your shift tomorrow.”

“Hyung~ Really?”  And Jimin was happy-go-lucky once more, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s middle and looking up at him hopefully.  “Are you buying?”

“First I pay you for working at my store and now you want me to pay for your food too?” Yoongi scoffed.  “Brat.  Maybe I should just fire you.”

“But hyung~” Jimin cuddled into Yoongi’s side.  “You love me~”

“I regret it.  Go back to work.”  Yoongi said, shoving Jimin off of him and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sauntering away, weaving through the shelves with a practiced precision.

“Bye hyung~”  He called out cheerily, turning back to his boxes after a cheery wave in Yoongi’s direction.

He took one look around and almost cried.

Yoongi had taken the stool with him.


Ye okay so this is my first post on here.  I hope you guys enjoy it.  I feel like I kind of botched up Jimin’s character, but anyways.

please, just hear me out.

it’s like the people who are posting the hate and rude remarks in the tag are just blindly doing so because whatever has got their drama senses triggered this time has the name “MatPat” on it. you guys are refusing to see the bigger picture simply because he’s a “cringey youtuber” and “he’s annoying” yadda yadda yadda. i get it. sometimes i think that, and i’m one of the biggest game theory fans you’ll meet on this side of the states.

i understand that matt bringing up the recent events of orlando and such may have struck a chord with a lot of those who are sending hate, but if this were a youtuber you DID like, you would be agreeing with him/her and his/her message. yes, i agree that matt giving pope francis a steam code to undertale is really out there and kind of ridiculous, but he has a valid point in his intentions upon giving him the gift. undertale, when used in this context, is meant to symbolize mankind’s ability to choose between pacifism and genocide, love and hate. the pope doesn’t need to play the game itself to understand the message matt was trying to convey.

another major point, matt brought up the events surrounding orlando, christina, and terrorism not as “theory fodder,” as a few certain haters may put it – hell, this episode wasn’t even a theory, if you compare it to the other episodes. he brought these issues up because it’s helping him prove a point. it’s literally just like any other insightful essay or article out there that actually has the balls to address the problems within world society.

tl;dr please, for the love of god, stop all this hate and start taking matt’s words to heart. the only way we’re going to be able to ever solve this conflict is through agreeing to disagree and refraining from destroying an otherwise lovable tag with hateful words.

Helpless Part 1: In The Eye Of A Reckoning - A Nessian Fic

Follows on from Hurricane but you definitely dont need to have read that one in order to read this. Thank you, thank you to my darling @widowshulk for betaing and my dear @illyrian-baby for cheerleading me allll the way through this.

Ive been working on this piece for a long time now (it was actually prompted but I think that poor person has since died of boredom waiting for me) so Im a bit nervous about it all things considered.

Title: Helpless Part 1: In The Eye Of A Reckoning

Summary:Set post ACOMAF. Cassian and Nesta first time scenario. The two work out the secrets that have been poisoning their souls for some time now and surrender themselves entirely to one another.

Teaser:Hes刑ifferent. Unlike anyone else shes ever met. Hard and soft all at once; a gentle warrior; a compassionate killer; a kind battle commander; a good man.

And somehow; some faint but insistent feeling deep in her gut whispers that hes hers. Her counter and balance. Her match, able to handle her without ever conquering her. Her equal one who can and will always give as good as he gets. Her destruction or her salvation, the one who has the potential to be either or somehow both at once. When most of the men around her had struggled her entire life to be anything to her at all This man; Cassian; was everything. And she had no idea how to respond to that.

Link: AO3

Rage. Anger. Fury.

Theres a fire that burns inside her. Burns and burns and burns. In that miserable, frozen hovel they had struggled to carve out an existence in it had been her salvation. Feyre had had her stubborn defiance and the oath she had made their mother. Elain had had her gentle, unassuming hope which had been the greatest strength and light any of them had shown in that darkness.

But she had only had that bitter anger to fuel her and keep her going. Now the thing that had given her life all those years is killing her. Its ceased fuelling her and has instead begun feeding on her. Its devouring her a little more and a little more every day, destroying her from the inside.

Pain and guilt and grief join the torrent of anger and her soul becomes a hurricane beneath her paper thin skin. Terror flares as it rages inside her and she realises she cant control it. Magic begins to well inside her, the sting of it now sickeningly familiar. Everything amplifies, getting bigger and stronger and louder until it numbs and deafens and blinds her to everything that isnt her and this twisted power.

She fights it. She clenches her fists and clamps down upon it. She triesto force it to submit to her. She triesto wrestle it into submission. She triesto force it to yield to her.

She fights. It wins.

The scream of agony, of anguish bursts from her as the pulse of magic erupts. Nesta crumples to her knees as her room explodes around her. It wrecksher in the process. She is left more shattered than the smashed windows and splintered furniture. The destroyer of the destroyed. The powerful powerless. The unbreakable broken. The Made unmade. The invincible immortal ruined by her own hands.


Cassian yawns expansively, giving his wings a habitual shake to try and rouse him. The still tattered edges sting at the sudden, jolting motion and he grits his teeth, biting back the hiss of pain. They were better than they had been. In that regard he hadnt lied to his brothers but吐hys and Azriel knew anyway. They knew that he pretended to be better than he was. Theyknew some small part of him still feared, even after all these centuries, not being important, not being useful, not being needed.

So he insisted he was all right, ready to return to his duties, to prepare them for war. And his brothers accepted this, even when they knew he lied. Azriels eyes he felt on him in particular. Watching, his brother was always watching, watching everything. But when his hazel eyes watched him they wereriddled with pain and guilt.

At night hes felt his brothers quiet, anguished presence there with him. When he wakes sweating and screaming, his wings ripped from his back again, he feels Azriels guilt there too. That only made him more determined to keep going, to be fine though he was far from it.

Weeks ago he had told Nesta he would have given up those wings a hundred times over to save his brothers life. That hadnt changed. It never would. Nesta had believed him; had understood that sacrifice. Azriel never would.

His brother burned with guilt for his loss a loss he knew Az understood; pain he knew Az saw. They knew each other too well for him to truly hide anything. But for now Az knew he needed them to pretend they believed him, pretend everything was all right and so he did.

Cassian sighs heavily, rolling his shoulders to work the tension from them. That unbearable, near continual restlessness that has plagued him since Hybern buildsin him once again. Ordinarily he would have flown to chase away these feelings. He would havelaunched himself into the sky until the cool night air swept away every issue and concern. What he wouldnt give to losehimself once more in the winds tender, comforting embrace.

But在ut there was no point pining after what he couldnt have. They all had too much to concern themselves with now war was brewing to worry about what they didnt have. The healers told him to have hope; that he may fly again. In a way that vague promise was worse than none at all.

He wanted to know what he was dealing with. He wanted to be able to see the field before him. He could work with the soldiers he had, train them, shape them, inspire them, command them. He could deal with resources he knew he didnt have; find ways to work himself around their lack. Things hemighthave frustrated him. Those he could do nothing with. They werent real and so couldnt be used. But they might be and so they could not be dismissed either.

Growling darkly to himself Cassian drags a hand through his shaggy hair. Then he squares his shoulders and forces himself to continue on down the corridor. Marshalling himself he tries to go back over the points discussed at the meeting he had just left, seeking to distract himself. He haslittle success.

A scream catches his attention instead, obliterating everything else around him. Chaos erupts following the shriek; as though a hurricane is tearing through part of the house. Causing his Siphons to burn like flames Cassian draws on his power. He letsit thunder through his blood, flooding his system, reading him for the fight.Then hesprints towards the source of destruction while servants hurry away. They partto let him pass, knowing better than to stand between him and whatever dares to try and harm those he loves.

As he draws nearer he realises that the source of the disturbance is Nestas room. His power flares more sharply in him, longing to devour any who would hurt her, his High Lords ward, his High Ladys sister, his

The snarl of fury rips from him as he bursts through her door. The action sendsit flying off its already damaged hinges. As he balances himself he reaches for the sword at his back,taking up a position to both attack and defend.

He had promised to protect her. He failed her in Hybern. He had sworn a second, silent oath to himself never to do so again.

Scanning the room for any threats he keeps hispracticed eyes sharp,even through his blind fury that any would dare threaten them here.However Cassian realises within a few heartbeats that theyre completely alone in her room.

Understanding floods him the moment he finds her hunched on the floor in front of him. She'scowering cowering head hung, body slumped in the midst of the wreckage that surrounds him. Both the eye of the hurricane and its most devastated victim.

Despite her newly enhanced Fae form and all its accompanying strengths she seems so small huddled before him. In the mortal world, as a human, she had stood before him with the confidence, bearing and command of a queen. Now, as a Fae.That Cauldron hadnt Made her; exactly the opposite.

Releasing his power and allowing the build up to dissipate, leaving only the usual faint rumbling behind, he steps into the room. He goes to her, steps deliberately heavy so he doesnt startle her by approaching her from behind. Once hes close enough to her small, hunched form he reaches out and places a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to offer her some comfort and solace.

Its thrown off with a violent strength a heart beat later. Dont touch me! she spits viciously at him.

Her whole body trembles uncontrollably like a wild animal thats been wounded and corned. Somehow he can sense the terror and pain rippling from her in waves, like the aftershocks of a boulder hurled into a pool far too small to contain it.

Cassian takes a step back, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender even though shes shrunk in on herself again, back to him, and cant see. Resigned, he decidesto leave her in peace. Giving her a chancecalm down should help. He'llreturn and see if shell let him help her once shes had a chance to compose herself and doesnt feel as ragged and raw and vulnerable.

Then he notices the trickle of blood that weeps from her shoulder in soft crimson tears. He freezes mid-step then changes his mind. Padding into the adjoining washroom he gathers together water, bandages and a bottle of ointment to tend to the gash. It needs to be bound up until her depleted strength returns enough for her to heal it herself.

Returning to the bedroom he crouches down in front of her. She refuses to acknowledge his presence but he sets down the things hed collected from the bathing room anyway.

Youre bleeding, he tells her in a low growl, gesturing to her torn shoulder.

His warm hazel eyes seek out the cold, battered blue-grey steel of hers. She avoids him still, sparing a cursory glance to her shoulder instead. Shrugging, she hunches further away from him, dismissive.Its fine, she mutters back to him, a flicker of characteristic snap edging her words but no more.

Its not, he says words blunt but still gentle. They soften further when he adds, Let me take a look.

Her eyes meet his this time.Drawn to him by the same irresistible instinct that kepthim here even after shed snarled at him to leave, wanting to make sure she was all right. Whatever she sees in his gaze, in him, seems to thaw the armour of ice that always entombs her. After a long momentshe jerks her head at him, permitting him to approach and tend to her.

With careful, if callused fingers, Cassian eases the strap of her dress down her arm, baring the wound to him. Leaning inclose he can feel her ragged breaths hot on his cheek for a moment. Thenshe turns her head away from him, staring out of the now empty window to avoid him. He probes cautiously at the long, deep rents in her skin, trying to assess the extent of the damage.

Nesta jolts round to face him with a sharp hiss when his thumb grazes over one of the raw edges accidentally. He flicks his eyes up to check on her but shes already looked away again, as though afraid of looking at him. Or else of being truly seen by him.

Sorry, he growls quietly to her.

That makes her turn to face him again. For the brief moment that their eyes meet Cassian feels something stir in him. Something that ties him to her. Its there, if only for that single pounding heartbeat. Andgone again the moment she tears her gaze from his.

Pulling himself together Cassian irritably brushes off the flash of feeling. Then he uses the ointment to clean the cuts, murmuring soft apologies to her when she grimaces in pain. Then he bandages them, trying to avoid touching her bare skin with his as much as possible. Every time he does so a spark seems to jump between like, like lightning flaring from her to him. He knows that she can feel it too, though she tries to pretend otherwise. Neither of them mentions it.

As he works Cassian fixes his gaze on her, trying to assess her condition. His hands remain gentle but a trace of steel lines his next words.You need to learn how to control this, he tells her flatly, keeping eye contact with her the whole time.

He feels her body stiffen beneath his touch in response to those words. Softening slightly hecaressesher arm with his hand he slides it slowly down until it meets hers. Thenhe takes it between his fingers and squeezes gently, trying to take some of the sting out of the admonishment. Youre going to hurt someone, he murmurs, trying to make his intentions clearer.Youre going to hurtyourself. And it could be much more than a scratch next time.


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Dear Nintendo:

please let me wear cute clothes

this still isn’t ml someone yell at me to get back to work

Okay so since the Severus Snape tag has just become overrun with loads of hateful comments and reposts and has just become a pretty nasty place for people to search for decent content on him, we’d really appreciate it if you’d start tagging any gifs and edits you make of Snape with: snapeedit.

I know a few people have already thought to use this tag which is brilliant, but we thought we’d give it a push and try to spread the word as we’re going to be using it regularly from now on.

*** Please remember that only the first 5 tags on a post will actually show up in the tag, so please include ‘snapeedit’ somewhere in the first 5 tags of your post otherwise other people won’t be able to see your work! ***

It’s just going to make it a hell of a lot easier for people to find new content on him without having to put up with all the negativity and reposts going on in the tag. So if you like reblogging gifs and edits of Snape then I highly recommend that you start tracking the tag: snapeedit.

Please reblog this to help spread the word around, thanks guys! ♥

Okay, we get it. Not everyone likes SNSD, but honestly, no one’s forcing you to like them. So what I want to know is why are some of you so angry that there are people who like them? Really think about this. What is the point of your adamantly illogical and senseless posts about why SNSD are ‘overrated and talentless’? What is the point of trying to belittle and discredit their accomplishments? Which is kind of ironic to do so, when you’re Jessica stans and she was part of all those pre-9/30. Do you want to belittle her hard work too? Doing so just proves that you really don’t care about Jessica and only care about hating on SNSD. Do you not see your hypocrisy? Really, if you hate something so much, why dedicate yourself and keep up with every single thing they do instead of focusing on what really matters? Go be happy with Jessica as she only improves. Many of you are literally going out of your way, making posts just saying nasty, biased, misinformed, superficial and even shallow things about SNSD and tagging it as well. It’s just sad and tired. It’s getting to the point where it’s becoming hard to take any of it seriously. Ultimately, you’re all just contradicting yourselves for the most part and it just becomes so overwhelmingly pathetic when there’s some of you with blogs dedicated to hating on SNSD. Now the funniest thing, well, it’s actually sad, about this is that most of you think you’re doing others and even Jessica a favor, but really you guys are just associating hate with Jessica, which we all know is totally unlike her, considering she’s only had good things to say about SNSD and her time as a trainee and member. She’s not shady or spiteful, so stop making her out to be. You guys are being toxic and an inconvenience, and I doubt Jessica, of all people would appreciate what’s being said. But as I said, hating on them isn’t going to take away all they’ve done or accomplished, hating on them isn’t going to make people like them any less, so what is your point? I’m genuinely curious. Now, if you’re doing this with the intentions of purposely pissing people off and upsetting them.. That only says enough about you and the type of person you are, which I don’t see how that’s such a great thing to flaunt. I’m not even telling you guys to that you need to stop hating on them, because really if you really hate them, I’m no one to change that, but at least be considerate of other people and keep unnecessary or even wrong opinions to yourself, instead of ruining things for others, or contaminating the tags. Now, don’t think I’m defending the petty ot8 stans, because I’m not, they’re in the wrong, just like a lot of you guys are, but they’re not the ones with blogs dedicated to hating on Jessica and persistently making themselves known, unlike some of you.

It’s been over a year though, Jessica’s over it, SNSD’s over it. They’re doing their own thing on their own paths now, both sides are happy. None of you were even directly involved so you should do the same as them. Just do yourselves a favor… Decompress and get your priorities straight. Or at least, give me good discourse justifying your actions. Thank you.

I went to bed super early and now I’m up super early, which is a good thing because I can use this time to block all the salty assholes in the TD tag that think it’s okay to tear the original TD members down to support their theories that Glenn is alive.

Believe whatever you want. It’s obvious what I think is going on with Beth and even though I haven’t seen the episode yet, I can tell they’re not even trying all that hard to make it appear like Glenn is actually dead.

Believe Beth is alive. Or not.

Believe Glenn is alive. Or not.


There is no need to tear down “Beth is alive” theories to build up “Glenn is alive theories.” That’s not how it works. That’s like calling someone ugly to make yourself feel attractive. It’s unhealthy and cruel and just not conducive to being a good person.

Here are Some More Things That Need to be Said...

I am so past thisclose to being done. This tag is dead, Markiplier’s community is dead. It is all dead. Anyone who tries to say otherwise is kidding themselves. Mark himself doesn’t even come here anymore.

Doxxing someone is NEVER. EVER. OKAY. Taking away their YouTube dreams when they have worked so, so hard and spent so much money and time and effort is NEVER. EVER. OKAY. God, I hate this. This person’s world and their dreams have been completely crushed. They are being harassed, tortured, brutally stalked.

All because she posted opinions and have people a safe place to vent their feelings. Sure, it was an angry blog. Sure, it was negative and often times way over the top and a little much but GOD, all of takes is a simple block you guys. Just block, be done with it.

This is why this fandom effing sucks. The same thing (though they weren’t doxxed) happened to the tinyboxtim blog. They had an OPINION and the whole Fandom crashed upon them like water on rock. That person and so, so many others. So many people were told to kill themselves, so many lives were threatened, so many people hated one another.

WHY? Because this has turned into a cult. I also have been wanting to say this too: MARK IS A PERSON. HE IS HUMAN. HE IS NOT YOUR SENPAI, HE IS NOT YOUR DADDY. HE IS NOT YOUR SWEET CINNAMON ROLL, TOO KIND, TOO SWEET TOO PRECIOUS. He is a 26 year old man who is normal like you and me, and is far from innocent and perfect. But goddamn, if one person says something bad about him, Hell hath no fury of the fandom’s scorn, hate and anger. All in the name of someone who has *asked us not to do this*. Doing this, especially “for” someone is completely and utterly wrong and appalling to me.

GOD! You all make me sick. He is getting sick of it. Everyone is sick of it and leaving. This tag and Fandom made my summer fantastic until now. There were such fun times and such great, amazing people. Talents were shown off here. Drawings, edits, vines, gifs, paintings, videos as far as the eye can see. Now it is minimal postings and most of them are just gif sets of the latest video. It is all dead and we are never coming back. I am disgusted with the Markiplites, even ashamed to call myself one. We are not Mark’s Heroes, not anymore.