he is just my boyfriend

Last night I had a dream where I was staying in a haunted house with my boyfriend. And I was freaking the frick out because one of the ghosts – the scariest ghost – fed off anxiety and grew stronger for it. So I hid under my blankets, shaking, hoping the anxiety ghost wouldn’t come for me. But I kept throwing the blankets off to yell at my boyfriend because he was just happily playing his GameBoy or whatever in the bed next to mine when he should have been cowering from the anxiety ghost.

And the day before I had that dream I was thinking about how writers always include such meaningful dreams and how unrealistic that is. After all, dreams don’t mean anything, right?? But, damn, my psyche came up with the best metaphor on its own. It is just like me to be frozen with fear about something that may or not happen while those around me seem to be able to live their lives, unburdened.

anonymous asked:

ghost parent i need good vibes I'm stuck at school and i'm super upset with my art and I keep thinking about how like half my family is gonna disown me when they find out i'm trans and my boyfriend just admitted that he might not even be attracted to me anymore after i start hrt and I just feel like a really ugly and gross person, I'm just sitting in a bathroom crying to myself, what should I do

ok but can i just say that if ur bf isn’t gonna like you anymore just because your body changes that’s like. not genuine love in the first place lmao…….. u deserve so much better than that honestly


i’m gonna hire jimin as my main model for my future brand, expect it around 2018

  • alec: did you sit in a pile of sugar?
  • magnus: ? ? ?
  • alec: 'cause you have a pretty sweet ass.
  • magnus: :) :) :)

Erwin has a great terrible taste in music and Levi does totally love hate it…

And I do totally not sing Backstreets Boys while being in the kitchen.

Part 2
  • Lance: *suave voice & talking to keith on the phone* Hey babe. Wanna... make-out with me on this cool bed when you get home?
  • Keith: Not if the cool bed your speaking of is that red racecar bed you bought from the store when it was on sale.
  • Lance: Come on Keith. It'll really help shift this make-out session into overdrive.
I think Yuuri knows how to play the piano!

“Hm? Is that a piano?”

Yuuri looks up from where he’s sorting out his laundry, a sock in one hand and a shirt in another. He puts the sock to one side and begins folding the shirt, Victor’s shirt that he keeps forgetting to give back. “Oh, that? I got that keyboard a long time ago—before I went to Detroit, even.”

Victor tilts his head from where he sits on the bed, feet stretched out before him. Blinks and looks at Yuuri. “Do you still play?”


“Play for me?”

Smiling, Yuuri sets aside one of Victor’s scarves and stands. “Any requests?”

“Your song,” the Russian says decisively after a heartbeat of thinking. “Yuri on Ice.”

“Hmm. I never learned it,” Japan’s top figure skater admits. He shakes his head and pulls out the keyboard from where it sits propped against his closet. “But I can try.”

“You can do that?” Victor asks. The words, You’re that good at playing? go unsaid.

Yuuri shrugs, plugs the keyboard into the wall and turns the machine on. “Sure,” he answers, fingers running over scales like water pouring from a fountain. The sound is crisp and clear, and Victor finds himself pleasantly surprised. He wonders why.

“I’ve skated to this song so many times it’s practically engraved in my head,” the brunet continues, moving into arpeggios and rhythmic exercises. The keyboard moves slightly as Yuuri presses into the keys, the device pushing into the yielding mattress. “Just give me a second to warm up.”

As Yuuri’s fingers drift over the keys, Victor swings his feet back and forth. “How did you start playing?”

Yuuri’s fingers don’t stop, unheeding of or perhaps disregarding the conversation. Yuuri turns to look at the older man and hums. “I saw a video of someone playing the piano and decided to learn.”

“Did you take lessons?”

“For a time, yes.”

“How old were you when you started?”

Yuuri huffs a laugh from his nose and tests out various chords. “Is this an interrogation now?”

“Well, I never knew you could play. Is it so wrong to want to learn more about your boyfriend?”

“Mm.” Yuuri pauses, looking down at his hands. “I started when I was relatively young. Six, I think?”

“That is young.”

“Well, I stopped being so serious about it when I began taking ballet lessons. And then skating took up most of my time after that.”

“But you still play?”

“I still play.”

Yuuri begins then, starting with the sixteenth note triplets, and Victor closes his mouth and just listens. It’s lovely—reminds him of when he first listened to it, half asleep and with Yuuri excitedly leaning over his lap. Reminds him of his former student, of his lover before they became lovers.

“You’re very good at this.”

Closing his eyes and letting himself visualize the music inside his head, Yuuri leans back and feels his lips quirk into a half-smile. “I’m not the type to let a skill atrophy without practice.”

“That’s not you, no,” Victor agrees.

And they both listen, then, to the music pouring out of the cheap keyboard roused from its sleep. He times his breathing to the swelling of the melody, to the rise and fall of the notes, to the cadence of the moment. Victor leans against Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri leans back, the two of them content to relive their memories through the passage of sound.

It’s a peaceful moment filled with peaceful feelings. Victor tells himself to ask Yuuri to play more music for him from now on.

Today’s happy headcanon: For days after meeting Sarek and Amanda in “Journey to Babel,” Jim refers to Spock solely as “He who is my boyfriend” just to piss him off.


✨💞💘💓💖💗💕💘💓💞 cutest hob!!! is cute!!!! 💞💘💓💖💕💗💖💘💓💞💗💕✨