a/n: You all have been so patient and I know I’m a bit late (4 months late soz about that). Every single one of you have been so amazing with the support of this, and it blows my mind every time I get a notification that TiC got another note. And when I posted earlier today that I was posting it, I absolutely loved the response I got in my inbox. It made my heart incredibly happy and with each message that came in, not gonna lie, i teared up a bit. You all have been so lovely and good sports (especially when i posted that fake TiC2 WHAT A TIME). So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the support. I have met some of the most incredible people through TiC and I cherish every single one of you. I feel so emotional posting this, but you all finally deserve the second part to probably the most angsty piece I have ever written (and will ever write omg). So, please enjoy the second and final installment to Trouble in Canada :)
THANK YA TO MY LOVELY @whitechocolateperfection for reading over this and giving me confidence :) you’re the best and i love you a whole lot
Those four words held a weight so heavy that you lost your grip on your tea. Your mug dropped to the floor, shattering in pieces and tea spilling all over the hardwood floor. You immediately went to pick up the broken pieces. On your knees, you picked up the shards of glass as Shawn was stood in the same exact position; not moving a single bone in his body to help you.
Collecting all the tiny shards in your hand you swiftly moved past Shawn to go throw the pieces out in the kitchen. You opened the trash bin, and right as you were about to throw out the broken mug, Shawn’s voice interrupted your movements, “Is that the mug I got you? The one from our first Valentine’s day together?”
Rose Leslie + Game of Thrones cast
“I had the best time of my life working, for those three years, on Game of Thrones. And I have such a love for the entire crew and everybody behind it. But I’m dead. I’m burnt. There’s no way I can even come back as a White Walker.”
Jeongguk seems to be in such a good mood!! He must be really happy and relieved to be finally graduating and leave school and fully concentrate on his career now :’)
its a once in a lifetime thing
so I hope he enjoys his graduation with a big smile on his face and leaves that place with only good memories ;; ♡
“On June 12, 2016, 49 people were killed & 53 others were wounded at Pulse in Orlando. The attack is the deadliest mass shooting in United States history & the deadliest incident of violence against LGBT people in U.S. history. One year later, we sing for Pulse. We sing for Orlando. We sing for you. We sing as one. We will not be silenced. - Michael Korte”
I thought I'd get it out in the open now you know, just in case I fail at bootcamp, and end up in a band with my soulmate, and we're forced to suppress our love and only get to show it through a series of tactical nautical tattoos.
i just really love the idea of shiro and keith being thrown together by the universe, like no matter what happens, they’ll find each other in the end? somehow, some force just keeps pushing them back together
like yes, they’ll lose each other, probably multiple times, but they always find each other again
and maybe one day, their luck doesn’t stick and they’ll lose each other for real, but damn it if they won’t fight to stay together, you know?
i love the thought of them being destined to meet each other, but that it was them who made it into the relationship they have now, them who fought to keep it like that, their choice to keep loving each other, even when the universe makes it both easier and harder to stay together in the end.
just give me sheith being thrown together by circumstance (and the universe) and choosing to stay together, even if destiny is also pushing them apart. because choosing to be in love, and to be loved, and to stay in love, even when it’s easier not to be, even when it hurts, that must be really hard.
I finally finished this, thank God. This is super self-indulgent and sappy, because yes, I am sappy. I don’t know whether or not I’m gonna write a part 2 yet, so I guess that depends on what you guys think. So let me know!
Tagging @strongenoughfoundation because we are both writing fics for this blizzard and you helped me get past a writer’s block c:
(Slight warning for language)
It was late evening, the snow was piling up outside, and you had nowhere to go. To some, you might’ve looked like a sad person all cooped up in your house, alone, with a sappy movie playing on the TV. To you, it was utter heaven. You’d been working hard, after all, taking extra shifts at work and helping your best friend with his newest project all the time. Hamilton had been a huge success and you couldn’t be prouder.
Oh right, you should probably call said best friend, Lin. You’d had to trudge back to your home in the bitter, stormy weather and you’d promised to call and let him know you hadn’t died. You fished your phone out of the blankets layered on top of you and unlocked it. The wallpaper was a hilarious picture of you and the rest of the Hamilton cast; you’d been smiling for a serious picture when Daveed muttered some ridiculous joke that had all of you laughing hysterically. You smiled at the memory as you thumbed through your contact list and found Lin’s number. Pressing CALL, you set the phone on speaker mode so you could continue eating your popcorn with your hands free.
It took a ring and a half for him to answer. “(Y/N), you better have a good excuse for waiting an hour to call me.”
You barked out a laugh. “I forgot, okay? It was snowy and windy, and I really just wanted to get inside. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You weren’t thinking about the ONE phone call you were supposed to make to your ONE friend?”
“You are not my ‘one friend,’ you jerk. I have other people to talk to.”
“Name two. And they can’t be in the cast.”
“Right, so you were saying?”
You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see you, and popped another piece of popcorn into your mouth. “I hate you.”
You heard him laugh, a single, disbelieving “HA!” that made you want to reach through the phone and punch him. “Go ahead and laugh,” you added sarcastically. “One day, I’ll have my revenge.”
“Your REVENGE?” he repeated. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Maybe beat you up. I’ve been wanting to lately.”
“You can’t beat me up, you’re like a foot shorter than me.”
“Oh, you’re making fun of my height now?” you asked in feigned outrage, leaning closer to the phone.
His voice responded, high-pitched and mocking: “'oh, you’re making fun of my height now?’”
You shook your head, unable to stop the smile threatening your lips. You’d missed him, you always missed him when you left, but today, it was worse. You wanted to see that stupid, silly smile he got when he teased you. You pushed your hair out of your face, trying to mask the sudden ache in your heart. “You’re in for it, now, Miranda.”
“Usted no me asusta niña bonita.”
“That’s not fair, I don’t know what you just said! How am I supposed to know how to insult you back?”
“Wow, your advice is legendary. You should make T-shirts with your inspiring phrases on them.”
“Aw, thanks, I try.”
“You’re trying to make me hate you, aren’t you?”
“It’s surprisingly easy.”
“I can’t believe that you're—”
“I love you.”
You froze. The TV hummed in the background, throwing a pale glow over the room. Outside the window, it was a blur of white snow and sky. Inside your chest, your heart was about to break out of your ribcage. Slowly, you swallowed and cleared your throat. “…what?”
You heard a shaky breath from the other end and a shift of movement. Then, again, “I love you. I know it’s really sudden and you’re probably confused, and shit, I wanted to do this differently. But I can’t help it.” He paused and you stared wide-eyed into the silence. Your mind was a mess of static, you couldn’t speak, you could only wait for his voice. “(Y/N), you’re my best friend, you know that, and God, you’re amazing too. You’re so amazing, and all I want is for you to be happy. It’s just so damn hard sometimes, to see you alone and know that I could make you happy, I wanna make you happy. I needed you to know that, even if it screws up our friendship.” His voice nearly broke then, and your heart clenched. In that moment, all you wanted was him here with you, to hold him close and tell him no, this didn’t ruin anything, this was wonderful. But you were getting choked up and it was hard to get words past the lump in your throat.
He took your silence as something else entirely and your breath hitched when you heard a quiet, “(Y/N)? …I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Sitting bolt upright, you snatched your phone off the arm of the couch. “Lin, I love you too,” you blurted out. There was a heart-stopping silence and you were terrified that he might’ve hung up already. “I think I—I’ve felt like this for a long time, but I didn’t know if you did. Please, tell me you didn’t hang up. I was scared, and stupid, and Lin, I love you,” you whimpered, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. “This won’t ruin anything, I promise. Just please let me know you hear me.”
For a moment, you were sure that you’d missed your chance and you were ready to call him again until he answered. But then—
“I hear you.” There was a sound that was like a laugh and a sob all tangled together and you wished with all of your heart that he was here with you. “God, I just—You weren’t answering and I was sure that I just made the biggest fucking mistake of my life.”
You smiled through your tears, wiping a hand under your eyes. “No,” you managed. “No, you didn’t. Lin…” You trailed off to yank the sleeve of your sweater down over your hand so you could use it to rub away another tear. “Sorry, I’m a mess over here. I’m crying like a freaking girl from a rom com,” you added bitterly and there was a sympathetic chuckle from your phone.
“It’s okay to cry, (Y/N), but it’s killing me. I wish I was with you, cariña,” Lin cooed and you leaned your forehead against your phone’s screen, closing your eyes at the soft lull of his voice.
“Do you think you can maybe come over?” you tried. “I know the snow’s bad, but um.” You broke off, biting your lip. You couldn’t be selfish and make him walk over here in the cold. You’d see him again eventually. But you felt so full of emotion, it was going to burst out at the seams if you didn’t see him soon.
When he answered, you could tell that he was smiling. “I’m on my way.”
I remember back in 7th grade when Avian was just a concept. Just someone who was pink colored, a fighter, and able to fly.
Here I am a rising Junior with one of the most complex people I’ve ever created, every year of her life something I can recall as if I had experienced her entire growing life, watching every view, opinion, and goal shift and mold and change. She is more complex than I ever imagined she would be, and God I love her
There is nothing more pleasing than creating a character and seeing them grow. OCs are amazing. Never give up. You can create anything and anyone with time, thought, and confidence
*rollerskates into my 8,000th fandom with sunglasses and a Capri sun* "sup y'all heard of hurt/comfort"
Listen,,, this was supposed to be just some emergency fluff to counteract some angsty magic in the group chat, but I GOT EMOTIONAL SO HERE HAVE THIS,, MONSTROSITY,,,
Logiciety cuddles @velocifoxy@killerfangirl3 @prinxietytrash @romanass @dan-yuna @deafinatelyfangirling
Anxiety didn’t like asking for help. Scratch that, it wasn’t just that he didn’t like it. It wasn’t possible. He was… anxiety. Relying on others wasn’t a thing he did. Anytime he felt brave enough to try, it was like the words crawled back down his throat.
/I should be able to handle this on my own/ he thought. /Involving other people would just get us both hurt/. So if he had to cry himself to sleep clinging to a pillow, fine. That was his problem.
That being said, sometimes he’d find himself wandering into a shared space, dreading and hoping to find someone there. It usually didn’t go well… sometimes the other sides were… talky. As soon as someone asked him if he was ok, if he needed anything, how he was, he would give a half-assed excuse to leave as soon as possible. To be fair, it was usually just making a face and walking out of a room, but hey, whatever works, right? But today was different.
Logan was the only other side in the room. Besides a quick look when anxiety entered the room, he barely stopped reading his book. Since the last video Thomas had put out, the two were at what could only be described as a fragile truce. Despite Logan saying, out loud, that he didn’t mind the company, it took anxiety a minute to walk over and sit on the arm of the couch opposite him. If Logan minded, he didn’t show it. Anxiety took a deep breath, and moved on to the actual couch. It was weird, sitting on actual furniture, but it was weirder being next to Logan.
Anxiety, generally speaking, didn’t like people. Especially not in his personal space. So his motives for wanting to be close to someone were… beyond him, but he couldn’t help feeling an ache in his chest whenever someone brushed past him. He knew they were scared of him. They should be. They should want to avoid him. He should /want/ them to want to avoid him. But he couldn’t help it. So he swallowed his pride.
“Hey… Logan?” His voice sounded weak and tiny in his throat. Logan looked up over his glasses “mm?” Anxiety braced himself, but Logan didn’t look scared, or annoyed, he just looked… calm. Like this was normal. Like this was ok.
“…could you read to me?” Logan blinked.
“I’m sorry?” Shit. Shitshitshit. “It’s nothing, man, don’t worry about it-”
“wait.” Anxiety stared at the hand on his wrist. He had gotten up. Things got bad, he bailed. It’s what he did. Logan wasn’t holding him there, or tugging him back down. He was acting like anxiety was a scared animal, giving him the space to make the first move. He sat back down on the couch. Logans hand didn’t leave his wrist. Anxiety kept staring at it, like it was about to disappear. He stayed like that till Logan started talking.
“From the point of view of history, of reason, and of truth, monasticism is..” He let the words fade into background noise, drowning out his fear. Logans face was hidden behind the pages, but his voice stuttered when anxiety twisted their fingers together, but he kept reading, so anxiety leaned in further. /it’s just an experiment/ he told himself. /see how far he’d let me go./ he pillowed his head on Logan’s chest. He could hear his breathing. He could hear his heart. Logan didn’t break his reading, but he wrapped an arm around the other sides shoulders, pulling him closer. Anxiety felt broken. Something fragile and achey had cracked in his chest, but it didn’t hurt.
He didn’t know he was crying until Logan stopped reading to swipe a thumb under his eye. He tried to wipe his face on his sleeve. “…sorry, I-” “Hey. It’s alright. Do you want me to keep reading?” His voice sounded softer than any time anxiety had heard it before. He didn’t need soft things. He didn’t need help. He should say no.