how you feel

the coolest thing about green day’s discography is the fact that you can literally grow up with them by listening to their albums in order.

a 17 year old singing about crushes and being scared about their future. a 23 year old singing about anxiety and starting a family. a 32 year old singing about their anger and dissatisfaction with the government and world events. a 45 year old singing about overcoming addiction and reflecting on past experiences.

and all this just makes me feel so much….relief. because all my current struggle are only temporary and even though i feel consumed by them right now, one day i’ll grow up and be so happy and look back at all this and realize that it’s all in the past.

GIMME
THAT SPAGHETTI
(it’s a good day to have a good day)
I NEED
(it’s a good day to have a good day)
THAT GOOD GOOD SAUCE

… i sure did spend a terrible amount of (occasionally distracted) time animating a shitpost of a ditty. 

just saying, Papyrus drunk = Good Times. not advised to mix with local ceiling fans.

(also i slightly blame lovely @asksansallthethings for this one, she tagged me in a decidedly more… risque ditty and i got the idea for animating drunk Pap from it because of course i did)

like it like it is pt. 2

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A series of drabbles counting down the six weeks from Iwaizumi’s birthday to Oikawa’s.


Tooru is talkative.

Sure, he knows how to be quiet when it counts, but his default mode is chatty.

When they’re tucked away in their shared apartment, limbs sprawled haphazardly over the other, breathing synced and the television on low, Tooru’s voice is what fills Hajime’s silences.

He knows how the silence eats away at him.

How it picks away at him, unraveling him; how hard it is.

How heavy.

Most people are turned off by the fact that Hajime doesn’t talk very much. They take his sharp looks and slow, contemplative silences as a signal that he doesn’t want to hear what he likes to say, that he likes the silence.

Liking the silence. It’s almost an amusing thought.

“Hajime,” Tooru says, his voice quiet and heavy with fatigue. He nudges Hajime with his nose, nuzzling against his chest. Hajime moves his hand up Tooru’s arm, thumbs brushing across his shoulder lazily. He traces patterns, soft swirls moving into circles. He hums to show he’s listening, as always, so Tooru keeps going. “You were right, too, you know? About that guy in my class? I thought he was just an idiot, but turns out he was just nervous about the presentation, too…”

Hajime closes his eyes, focusing in on the sound of Tooru’s voice, on rumble in his chest as he talks. Low, relaxed. Constant. He laughs, shifting his weight, and Hajime takes the opportunity to pull him a little closer.

“I wish you coulda seen him, Hajime. It was like watching a train wreck. I didn’t even know what to say - he just kept talking and talking and oh my god, even the prof was laughing his ass off by the end of it.” He snorts a little, trying to hide it behind his hand, embarrassed, but Hajime always sees it. He just smiles, pressing his nose into Tooru’s hair, leaving a small kiss there.

Tooru’s skin on his is warm and soft. The slide of their limbs together sends little shivers up his spine. He’s not wearing anything other than a pair of boxers, and Hajime appreciates the closeness, loves the skin-on-skin contact. Tooru keeps talking, warm and comforting and safe, each word breaking down Hajime’s walls. slowly. At just a pace Hajime is comfortable with.

He starts leaning closer the more he talks, the later it gets; he sighs into Hajime’s touches, which get a little harder, more insistent. Hajime squeezes Tooru’s shoulder blades, sliding his hands down his back, feeling the strong muscles there from much hard work. Tooru inhales when Hajime massages his fingers in, working out the tension in his back. Hajime knows that he spends way too many hours hunched over his desk, pencil in hand, agonizing over every little piece of the puzzle of his work, delicately creating works of art, sometimes getting so into it he forgets to eat.

Every day ends like this. Sometimes earlier in the evening, other times not until three in the morning when they’re smelling of cheap beer and cigarette smoke, stumbling in and laughing as they catch each other in the doorway, hurried kisses shared as they try to navigate back to the bedroom.

“How was your day?” Tooru asks, not opening his eyes. He shifts a little to give Hajime better access, stretching out his toes when Hajime hits a spot just right. “Good?”

Hajime nods slowly, now comfortable. It’s just him and Tooru, alone and safe in their bedroom; the curtains drawn tight and their phones long forgotten, tucked away into backpacks. Everything else is forgotten and finally, at last, the Hajime that only Tooru knows comes to light.

“Yeah,” he says, digging his fingers into Tooru’s lower back, smiling when he keens a little, “It was good… my train was late in the morning, though, so I was almost late to class. And my pink lighter, you know, the one with the flowers on it?”

“Your favourite one?” Tooru asks lazily, lifting his head to throw Hajime a smirk.

Tooru may be talkative, but he also really knows how to listen.

Hajime smiles. “Yeah,” he responds, leaning down to kiss the smirk right off his face. “That one. Well, I’d left it on our patio table, so I couldn’t even have a smoke while I waited for it…”

“I love you Lexa” - #clexa

Clarke: *casually,yet nervously walks passed the guards and goes up to Lexa holding a note in her hand*  Lexa? Can I have your help translating something? It will only be just as second.

Lexa: *tilts her head to the side like a confused puppy*  What is it Klark? Is everything okay?

Clarke: Oh no, everything is fine! It’s just….Octavia wrote this down in Trigedasleng and I was hoping maybe you can tell me what it says…?

Lexa: Of course Klark. May I see this note?

Clarke: *nervously hands the note to her and stands there silently*

Lexa: *takes the note and reads it before translating* Ai hod yu in Leksa Kom Trikru. It says “I love you Lexa of the tree people.” 

Clarke:…..*gives Lexa a small smile*

Lexa: 

Originally posted by ovelhapsico

Originally posted by 912gif

When people STILL bash your fave stars for things that they haven’t even done.

anonymous asked:

So I don't know if you do requests or not, but if you do, could you please write a part two for "and how does that make you feel?" Where Will wants to propose to Nico, but wants Hades approval so he goes to the Mannor all casually and some gaurd answers the door and he goes yeah. I just want to ask Hades a question real quick, you think he got a second? (Love your writing by the way, read through the whole solangelo fics and the fireworks series last night 🖤💕🖤)

Okay so I don’t usually do this so please don’t all try flooding my inbox with continuation requests. But just as I was about to sorry but no! The cutest and most brilliant mental image came into my head of wide-eyed innocence Will Solace staring down bodyguard #12 and #13 pretending like he didn’t just sneak back several forms of high-tech security (bc Will has definitely got a past) just bc he’s a traditional sort of guy and Hades won’t respond to his texts for a meet-up.

-

“For the last time, how did you get in here.”

Will Solace stared up wide-eyed at the big, burly man, his chin trembling with forced effort. “I - I don’t know what you’re talking about! I just walked in!”

“Oh? Past thirteen different forms of the best security systems in the world? You just walked in?”

Twelve Will mentally corrected him, if you don’t count the online system he disabled from home.

Will only shrugged, keeping his expression open. “Maybe you guy’s should invest in better systems.” He added helpfully. “I hear Walmart has some pretty good ones!”

“That’s it.” The bodyguard spat, his hand clenching and unclenching. From his shifting, angry energy, Will could only guess he had been given specific orders not to resort to violence. That was always nice. He turned to bark at the other guard. “Go get the boss, he’ll decide what he wants to do with you.”

Will perked up a bit, shifting in his handcuffs. They were kind of cheap, gave out after just a bit of tugging and adjusting, which was a tad big disappointing. Where was the challenge in that?

Will only had to wait a few moments. The second wall to the side clearly had a two-way mirror built in under the grime, and the older man had probably been observing the entire time.

Hades, the supreme overlord of evil in the modern world, glowered down at him. This was the part where Will was suppose to beg for mercy, he guessed. He probably would have, had Will had been hearing soft, slightly embarrassing stories from Nico for the past few years, involving pet shelters and poor orphanages. Will remembered how, just last night, Nico had turned his phone to him, laughing and showing him some photo Hazel had sent him. Hades cuddling a much too large, from all drooping fat and not muscle at all, that Hades had recently rescued. It’s name was fluffy, named by Hades himself.

That tended to make a man less intimidating. 

There was a crack in the tension, like Will had forgotten to say his line. He guessed he had, from his happy silence as he took in his hopefully-soon-father-in-law. Hades adjusted the lighting in the room, coming a bit closer. His expression was blank but his shoulders tense. “I know you. Who are you?” He said after a long moment, his voice deep.

“Will Solace, sir!” Will’s grin was much, much too sunny for such a dingy room. “And I’m here to talk to you about your son, Nico di Angelo.”

“Nico?” His blank expression was gone in a flash, something more angry in its place. “What about him?”

Will uncurled his hands then, making the guards flinch back and train their weapons on him. Hades didn’t react, probably knowing his guards would have Will down before he could do anything bad, but he did flash a note of surprise.

Will carefully, slowly, slide the small slip of shiny paper out of his front shirt pocket. The guards hadn’t bothered checking that one, for some odd reason.

It was the only small photo he had of them, printed. He couldn’t risk bringing along his phone, with Nico being the double, triple, constant texter he was.

He held out the photo, not really expecting Hades to take it. After a second, one of the scowling bodyguards stomped up and took it from him.

He frowned down at it, not really comprehending. It was a simple photo - one of those polaroids Hazel loved taking. It was just them, on a lazy day sharing a couch. They were grinning at each other - Nico had just made a cheesy joke - and neither of them were paying Hazel and Frank - on the other couch - any attention. Their feets and blankets were tangled together, and Nico was leaning into Will’s chest with a familiar air. It was a cute photo.

The guard handed it over to Hades after a moment, clearly deeming the photo safe or whatever, and Hades observed the photo for a long minute. His expression didn’t change.

“Will.” He muttered, staring down at the paper. His heavy gaze slid back up to Will’s awaiting one. “You’re the civilian he kidnapped, all those years ago.”

Will sighed. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to tell everyone that story.” He muttered.

Hades cocked his head. “He seems very proud of it. You were his first, you know.”

There was a long, long moment of silence. One of the guards coughed awkwardly.

Hades cleared his throat. “Kidnapping, I mean. You were his first kidnapping victim.”

Will swallowed, “I know, he uh, told me. When he did it.”

Hades was nodding. “Good, good.” He glanced back to the guards behind him, both of them aware of their audience. Hades didn’t dismiss them, instead going back to business. “Now, what are you doing in my home in the middle of the day?”

Will took a quick breather second. 

He was so glad the guards had left his shoes alone. He could feel the ring adjusting into the leather every time he shifted his weight.

If he and Hades left this interaction acquaintances, he’d have to suggest better security. It was a bit sad, honestly.

“I”m here to talk about your son.” He repeated his words from earlier. “And I’d like your blessing.”

-

*queue and that’s it folks! gif*

Theory time....

Alright so I want to talk about this

Now, I know that this has been talked about a lot (and I’ll probably discover that someone already talked about this before) but I want to give my thoughts, as I haven’t seen anyone say this theory yet. So hear me out please.

Alright, so far I’ve seen a bunch of different speculations about what is going on in the above picture. Back before season 2 came out, I think the largest theory surrounding this was that this was proof that he was galra, as it made his skin turn purple and shows his galra form. Even now people still think that is what it is even though they don’t need it anymore to try and prove that Keith is galra.

Lately I’ve seen a bunch of theories about him also being a druid, and saying that that is why his hand looks like that instead of the glowy wounds like Shiro and Thace’s.

Then there is the simpler theories of the magic just burned his hand and the pure quintessence healed it.

All or any of these could very well be true, but consider this;

The purple in his hand is corrupted quintessence.

Keep reading