i have nothing to say on the matter

All That Matters

A/N: Okay all my works have been angst (with the exception of crack fics), so I feel the need to write some cute ass fluffy shit so I can prove to everyone that my heart isn’t a black chasm of nothing. 

Description: Everything begins to fall apart for Spencer and Y/N’s wedding day and they calm each other down.

Originally posted by sweetg


“It’s all ruined! Ruined I say!” Penelope screamed running into the room.

“What – what happened?!” you panicked.

“The flower arrangements got shipped to the wrong address, the minister is stuck in traffic, and Spencer’s pants!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

“Spencer’s pants?” JJ, your maid of honor, asked.

“He decided to go take a little walk outside –

“In the rain?” Emily cut her off.

“Yes…. And anyway, he tripped over some rocks and now his pants are all wet and muddy,” she explained.

Oh my God, oh my god. You were freaking out. You had been planning this day for two whole years and it had already gone to shit.

“No, no, no,” you paced back and forth.

JJ got up to comfort you, and Penelope started to pour a drink into a glass.

“Y/N, listen it’s okay. We’ll run to the store, get Spencer some pants. The minister is on his way and that’s what’s important,” she said softly as she rubbed your back.

“And the flowers?” you demanded.

“I don’t know……” JJ mumbled.

“WELL HOW AM I GONNA HAVE A WEDDING WITHOUT FLOWERS, JJ?” you screamed.

JJ jumped up, startled. Emily stared at you wide eyed. And Penelope started approaching you glass in hand.

“Sweetie here, this will calm you down,” she said, holding a glass of red wine in her hand.

“Penny, you’re a lifesaver,” you grabbed the drink from her hand. “Maybe all I need is a little alcohol to unwin-

SHIT! Midsentence your hand slipped, and you’d accidentally poured the drink all over the top half of your dress. The red sunk in between the lace embroidery, and bled into your strapless bra. All that could go wrong had went wrong. You sat yourself down on the white ottoman and wept.

“Y/N, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Penelope mumbled. She reached for some tissues on the table and began to clean you up.

“Stop….” You muttered. She didn’t hear you. “Oh my fucking god, Penny, stop!” you yelled.

She looked up at you, tears stung at her eyes, “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help,” she sniffed.

“I know, honey. It’s not your fault,” you sighed. “This day just sucks,” you crossed your arms.

Emily walked over to you and touched her hand to your shoulder. “Look, I know everything isn’t going how you thought it would, but think about what matters,” she consoled. “You love Spencer, and he loves you. And one day you guys are going to look back at this day and laugh.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Will you guys excuse me for a moment?” you asked, as you began to leave the room.

JJ ran over to the door and blocked it, Penelope followed. “No, no you are not going to get cold feet right now!” JJ scolded.

“We aren’t going to let you hurt Spencer like this!” Penelope added.

“Guys, relax. I’m just going to talk to Spence,” you explained.

JJ and Penelope exchanged a look and nodded. They believed you.

“Very well,” JJ hesitated, walking away from the door.

“And Y/N,” Penelope pointed straight at you. “Don’t you dare let him see you,” she warned.

You sighed, she was always one for being superstitious. But you nodded nonetheless for the sake of appeasing her. You opened the door and made your way down a bright hallway. It was honestly beautiful, unlike the deranged bridezilla walking down it. The glimpse you got of yourself in the side mirror was horrendous. All the crying you did reduced you to a panda, your dress looked was stained, and your hair was disheveled from your constant pulling of it.

When you finally made it to Spencer’s dressing room, you extended your arm to knock on it. Before you had the chance, however, Derek stopped you.

“Woah there, Pretty Girl, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Derek, I just wanna talk to him,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m freaking out, and Spencer is the only thing that will calm me down right now.”

He paused. “Okay fine, just don’t let him see you.”

“You too?” you groaned.

“Pardon?”

“Did Penny make you all superstitious too?”

“Hey, Y/N, it isn’t about superstition, it’s just a wedding tradition,” he defended. “But go ahead and talk to your Pretty Boy, I think he could actually use you too right now.”

“Thanks, Derek,” you smiled.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said, walking out of the hallway.

You waited until Derek was out of the clear before knocking on the door.

“Spence, you there?”

“I think so,” he whimpered.

“How are you doing?” you asked.

“Pretty bad, how about you?”

“I’m not so good either,” you replied. You crouched down so you were now sitting on the ground and hugging your knees. “I thought everything was going to be so perfect you know?”

“Yeah, me too. I ruined my pants,” he commented.

“I heard….but it’s okay. I ruined my dress, so we’re both a mess,” you chuckled slightly.

You heard him laugh as well. “Hey, Y/N, I know neither of us are the superstitious, so do you maybe want to go outside and talk to each other? Away from all this.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled. “I’ll go out the backdoor you can…..

“Window, I’ll go out the window.” He offered.

“Okay, just make sure not to fall down again,” you joked.  

“Damn you, Mrs. Reid,” he retorted.

You laughed again and headed for the backdoor. You looked around every now and then to make sure no one saw you. When you reached the door, you scanned the hallway one last time. No one. Delightful. You opened the door and immediately were greeted by heavy downpour. You squinted slightly to look for Reid. The visibility was so bad you couldn’t see anything within ten feet.

“Y/N, over here!” Spencer called out.

You turned your head around, and saw your soon-to-be husband sitting on a long white bench. You pulled up your dress so you didn’t trip on the steps and walked over.

“You look stunning,” he complimented, standing in front of him now.

“Yeah right,” you scoffed, sitting yourself down. “I look awful.”

“Y/N, you want to talk about awful? Just look at this,” he pointed to his extremely dirty pants.

“We can both be messes together,” you giggled.

“You’re my mess though,” he kissed the top of your head.

You rested your head onto his shoulder and sighed. “I lied to Penny and said I wouldn’t go see you.”

“She would freak if she knew we were here,” Spencer commented.

“Yeah, she would probably be showering us with four leaf clovers, horse shoes, and rabbit feet,” you laughed. “Why are rabbit feet considered lucky anyway? Seems weird as hell.”

Spencer wagged his finger, his classic sign before a rambling session. “The common North American myth originates from the African-American folk spirituality known as hoodoo,” he began. “It’s said that rabbit’s feet are lucky because of their reproductive habits, so carrying a rabbit’s foot was thought to help with fertility.”

“Oh, well we don’t have to worry about that for a while,” you said.

“If Garcia knew about that, I think she would give us rabbit feet non-stop. She always loves a potential godchild to spoil,” he chuckled.

“I can’t wait for that,” you beamed.

“For kids?” he asked.

“All of it. I can’t for us. I can’t wait for us to get married, to have kids, and I can’t wait for us to grow old together,” you answered.

“Me neither, Y/N,” Spencer gushed.

He leaned his forehead into yours and pecked you on the lips.

“Ready to go back inside?” you whispered.

“Absolutely,” he smiled.

You both got up, and held hands. You weren’t freaked out anymore. 

You had Spencer, and that’s the only thing that mattered.

So uh, in Berseria, pretty much around the time when Eleanor joins you, Magilou makes a bet with Velvet and she says like “100 gald you break” in regards to fighting Artorius again. But like. We all know Velvet isn’t gonna give up no matter what… and 100 gald is absolutely nothing

Like a stay at the inn is 100 gald, and you pick up like 1000 gald from treasure chests… I know, gameplay and story segregation, but.

We aalll know Magilou makes that bet just so she has an excuse to stay with the gang. She even brings it up at Titania “I’m bored and I have a bet with you anyways so I have to stick around for that”

She caaaaares about everybody, especially Velvet. What a doooork

EVERYTIME LONELINESS KNOCKS ON MY DOOR,
i let her in.
she takes up the whole couch
so i sit on the floor
knees bent, chest creaking.
she tells me stories
that sound so real
so nightmare
that might never really happen,
but i believe her anyway.

she’s good at putting words
in my throat
and making choking feel like breathing.
i whisper to the dark
and it doesn’t whisper back.
we fall asleep like that,
her laid out on my spine
and my stomach trying to pretend
that the floor is warm.
i don’t remember if i dream.
i dont remember a sunrise.
or breakfast, for that matter.

she looks at me and says:
everything must go.
everything must go
because someday
everything will go
and you will lose and lose
and lose
till you have nothing left.
i nod. i leave
the paints out in the open
the ink drying, the words
unfinished, like the brushes
carelessly scattered across my desk.

she smiles and lays me down.
i try to look at the ceiling
but i can’t see past her
sitting on top of me playing
piano with my ribs.
i look away. she doesn’t.

eventually, i get bored.
of her. of myself. of life.
she tells me i can’t think like that and shows me what to think instead.
i don’t like how it sounds.
she doesn’t listen to me,
doesn’t let me listen to me.
i try screaming

but I’m too loud for myself.
its a quiet kind of noise
and a noisy kind of quiet.
i don’t like anything. i don’t like
loneliness. we fight.
she storms out on me and suddenly
my desk is not the messiest thing on earth anymore.
i clean it anyway. leave
the painting half color-half empty
the poem abandoned;
life takes over my life.

the next time
loneliness doesn’t knock on my door;
she lets herself in.

—  [ vans ]

The mods running @white-sapphics are the quintessential examples of how racism and transmisogyny often overlap, and how white radical feminists have always aligned themselves with reactionary right-wing ideologies to supersede racial progress. I encourage every wlwoc and trans woman to block this blog, as it’s spewing some pretty generic white nationalist rhetoric. Whether the mods are trolls or not is not clear at this point (half of me thinks they are and half of me thinks the blog is genuine), but regardless the kinds of things they’re saying are detrimental to coalition politics. They also serve as a humorous reminder that white wlw are as racist as their straight counterparts and nothing about them is radical or revolutionary at all, no matter how much they want to pretend otherwise. White wlw have a habit of victimizing themselves and clinging to their identity politics. When they aren’t busy tearing each other apart over lateral aggression in wlw circles or arguing over who’s more oppressed and who’s more radical and who’s more sapphic, they come together to lash out against wlwoc. It’s amusing to witness. 

Guess Miley Outgrew her J's

So Miley had to step away from hip hop?

“I’m in the club high off purp with my shades on..” MILEY?

Miley, “ I don’t listen to that kind of music.” When people inquired about the references in Party in the USA. Only to find herself twerkin in a frog suit with black women behind her years later, Miley?

Miley, who was propelled forward and profited off the appropriation of hip hop culture and her relationship with a black producer, Miley?

Did she return her J’s (I’m asking for the culture.)

Girl cop a squat on your wrecking ball and swing the fuck out my face….you were never apart of this. You used hip hop culture to progress your, “ I’m just trying to be me… agenda” on the backs of black and brown women who are still shamed for the very things you were applauded for. All while those women continue TIRELESSLY FIGHTING THE MISOGYNY PRESENT NOT JUST IN THE WORLD, BUT IN THE HIP HOP CULTURE THEY LOVE.

You couldn’t “step away” fast enough, cause it was all good when you were getting pulled on stage to twerk and collecting your check….

I support anyone that is willing to speak out against misogyny. But I’m sick of these fair weather white feminist and their endless parade of bullshit. Quick to condemn hip hop but have nothing to say about the misogyny present in country music. Quick to claim feminism while dismissing scores of black and brown women who’s voices and concerns they actively attempt to invalidate.

Now to address another matter.

Can we STOP giving out passes to the cookout so prematurely….

A Lesson in Love (Confessions)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,178

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, this is not the end of story.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - The messages you sent me after editing this part let me know that I had successfully tugged on all of the right heartstrings, so thank you for that.

Originally posted by ditchthevillian

Whenever an uncomplicated task arises, people say it’s as easy to accomplish as breathing. The adage always made perfect sense to you whenever you heard it. Breathing is second nature. It can be done without having to think twice and, sometimes, it feels like certain tasks are the same way.

Today, that’s not the case. Standing here across from Bucky for the first time in weeks, you find that breathing is anything but easy. The air was knocked out of your lungs as soon as you stumbled upon the note he wrote on the canvas and you haven’t yet recovered. You have to keep reminding yourself to breathe, just breathe. But it’s hard. How are you supposed to remember to inhale and exhale in a moment like this?

“Are you going to say something?” You press, once the silence of the room becomes too unbearable. Your fingers curl tightly around the canvas as you wait for Bucky to speak. “Anything?”

Keep reading

“How much do you love yourself? Because if you understand the value of self-love. You would never be friends with those type of people. Most of the people around here are running around empty. They have no sense of self. No sense of self-love. When I say self-love its nothing to do with celebrities, money, materialistic things and all of the things that your negative mind will probably go to. It’s nothing to do with looks, nothing to do with cars or any superficial things that one would asume could make you love yourself even more. It’s a matter of knowing your value. It’s a matter of you saying I don’t have to be around these people in these types of environments or situations in order for me to finally see the value in myself. I love me independently of how you love me. I believe in me. I know my self worth. I know clearly that I’m a child of the universe and the universe has a purpose and if it didn’t I wouldn’t be here anymore. I am here. And I have a purpose. Everyday I am a work in progress. Self-love is the cure to self-hate.”

self love - motivational video, HESMotivation

Enough with this anti Otayuri crap.

Let’s start by saying that I’m not a hardcore Otayuri fan; I don’t mind them, I just like Viktuuri better. 

Now, ship hate is nothing new: always has been, always will be -cause some people are just incapable of sharing their opinions without bashing and flaming. You have the right to dislike a certain ship if it’s toxic or unhealthy (like Sasuke/Sakura for me) or abusive (like Sangwoo/Yoonbum for me… still read KS though, I’m a sucker for psychological horror) or illegal (like Sebastian/Ciel in probably every industrialized country in the world, but I mind my own business), or simply triggering. You have the right to state your reasons.

You don’t have the right to be an asshole without a reason though.

Here a piece of advice: you think that Otabek is a pedophile? That Otayuri is unacceptable for age reasons?


WRONG.


If it makes you feel that way, it’s your opinion. Your own perception. If thinking about a relationship between two teenagers of 16 and 19 respectively makes you feel uncomfortable because your idea of age of consent is different from the one stated by the law, it’s a matter of opinion. Every opinion matters, but you have to keep in mind that Otayuri has shippers from all over the world, and the age of consent might vary. 

Here’s some data:

In many countries (at least in most of European/Western countries) the age of consent is set at 14-16. For example, where I come from (Italy, one of the most close-minded country I’ve ever seen, but things are slowly changing, thank God) it’s perfectly acceptable to have sex if you’re at least 14 -of course the consent is invalidated with partners who have custody or some kind of institutional power over you). In Italy you can even have sex at 13, but in this case your partner must be a minor him/herself and 3 years older tops, otherwise it’s punishable. So in Europe Otayuri is generally legal.

I don’t know much about American law, but I know for sure that A) the age of consent varies from State to State, and B) the most common one is 16. Same goes for Canada. So in Northern America Otayuri is generally legal as well. 

Yuri!!!! on Ice is a Japanese show. Kubo Mitsoru is Japanese. In Japan the age of consent is set at 13 (although in some prefectures every sexual act conducted on a minor is considered illegal, while in Tokyo the age consent is 17). Guess what? With some variation, in Japan Otayuri is legal.

In Kazakistan? Here the age of consent is set at 16, regardless of consent and sexual orientation (yes, in some countries taking it up the ass makes a difference, don’t ask me why). I’m getting tired of repeating myself, but according to the law of Kazakistan Otayuri is legal. 

This leaves Russia. “Article 134. Sexual Intercourse and Other Actions of Sexual Character with a Person Who Has Not Reached the Age of Sixteen Years: Sexual intercourse committed by a person who has reached the age of eighteen years with a person who has not reached the age of sixteen years shall be punishable […]”. That means that even in Nohomoland™ Otayuri would be legal. 

So, as you can see, most of these antis are not simply stating their opinion, which would be their right if they were to respect others as well. Otayuri is legal in almost every industrialized country (Arabia and Islamic countries are another matter, and I’m definetly not getting started on that), so why the fuck are people talking about pedophilia?!? Do you even know what a pedophile is? Apparently you don’t, and you’re lucky you don’t. 

A pedophile is the old beggar at the corner of the street who tried to shove his hands under my sister’s shirt when she was 5. A pedophile is a sick person, a dangeros person, a criminal who lusts after children. 

If that’s what you think of this when you watch YOI and see an Otayuri moment, then you’re lucky enough to not know what a real pedophile is. 

Keep in mind that every data I collected is taken from the Internet, since I’m not a law student nor I have access to legal data from the other side of the world, but I tried to be as accurate as possible. What I’m trying to say is that, if Otayuri makes you feel uncomfortable because of the age difference, you don’t have to bash other people because of it: every country has its own code in the matter, although there’s a general tendency, and that has nothing to do with ship wars. And keep in mind that the age of consent matter is an ongoing debate because it has little to do with age per se and more with psychological maturity. I mean, if we were to listen to Mother Nature, women would have the right to have sex at 12, 10 in some cases, since their bodies can bear children, right? 

It. Is. A. Matter. Of. Perspective. 

✩ *: ・゚ - GAME GRUMPS SENTENCE STARTERS.

feel free to change pronouns & such !

  • ❝ follow your stupid fucking dreams. ❞
  • ❝ finally, I can murder cats. ❞
  • ❝ it’s really satisfying because you squeeze it & it goes everywhere. ❞
  • ❝ wouldn’t it be funny if you like, loose a family member ?
  • ❝ you gotta ask yourself : what am i gonna put up with today ?
  • ❝ not fucking this- ❞
  • ❝ if i can’t be the best, i can sure as hell be the worse. ❞
  • ❝ i have three seconds to say words- i will say these. ❞
  • ❝ could you imagine if your body was completely constructed out of ballsack material ? ❞
  • ❝ there he is ! what’s up ____ ? ❞
  • ❝ i don’t have to die if i pause. ❞
  • ❝ you had ALL these flavors… & you chose to be salty. ❞
  • ❝ nothing like a gunshot to the face to really mellow someone out. ❞
  • ❝ do you think i came out of the pussy drawing fucking mozart ?
  • ❝ i did it. i accomplished my dreams &- i died. i fuCKING DIED !! ❞
  • ❝ no matter how deep a friendship is, you can end it really quickly with a sledgehammer. ❞
  • ❝ i just don’t like sheep. that’s the choice that i’ve made. ❞
  • ❝ everything bad has… you know, has a good. ❞
  • ❝ i get winded if i open the fridge too fast. ❞
  • ❝ …yeah i’m gonna go ride space mountain a bajillion times like a normal person. ❞
  • ❝ dude just be fucking goofy, let your goof be free; you know ? ❞
  • ❝ …go on ~ ❞
  • ❝ those tits…. have you considered calming them ? ❞
  • ❝ without you, i’m like a sad japanese man.❞
“ENOUGH OF THE GAY STUFF”

Sent to my website email this morning - Subject: Enough Message: Enough of the gay stuff on Bright Sessions. Please we are begging you. Sent on: June 2, 2017.

So here we are, two days into PRIDE month. How’s everybody doing?

I’m going to start off by leaning into the mic and saying with full-throat clarity: “Fuck you…you fucking fuck”.

I am a gay man…and before that, I was a gay kid…a scared and angry kid who had so much internal homophobia brewing inside of him that he thought he might explode because nothing in the world was convincing him, or trying to convince him for that matter, that it was normal and okay to be who he really was. And I can tell you, when I was that scared kid, shows like The Bright Session were almost non-existent; and what a shame.

I would have cried from happiness if The Bright Sessions existed when I was a boy. Shows like The Fosters, Glee, Eye Witness, Riverdale, Shadowhunters…shows where I could see myself on the screen in a way all of my heterosexual friends could without question since birth. 

Today I turn on the radio…and 99.999% of the music is, narratively, written/produced with a straight audience in mind…and in some cases/genres it’s used to target and ridicule me and my sexuality.

I live in a world where gay men are being thrown off of rooftops and “exorcized” in Chechnya because they are seen as aberrations; less than…underserving of love and existence. I live in a world where in my own country, a venomous discriminatory fear-based movement validated by the election of their figurehead sent a resounding message that my rights are actually up for debate.

In a world where there is so little positive reflected back at me…so little out there saying that my truth and the stories that express my life and experiences on this earth are valid…in a world where I feel like every day and every breath is a stand to qualify my existence…In that world, I get a message that tells me “enough of the gay stuff”. 

So…to the person who sent this message, I feel sorry for you; I genuinely do…I truly, genuinely and absolutely do. How terrible your life must be, and how delicate your self-image must be to reach out and say something like that. At first look, the message is mean and evil…but then the shaky-ground of masculine fragility reveals itself, as it always does, and I pity you. 

This is Pride Month…It’s meant to celebrate the LGBT+ community and our allies by opening up to share the beauty and diversity of our lives with everyone. I am proud of who I am…and it took a damn long time to get here.

I can’t really speak for Lauren, our creator/show-runner, or the rest of the cast, but…we have a gay character, a bi character, a lesbian character and a “no labels at this time” character confirmed as canon in The Bright Sessions…and I’m here to tell you we will never “enough with the gay stuff”. We are here to celebrate the people and stories that matter to us…Caleb, Adam, Mark and Rose are my friends; these are the people I have in my life and I think you’d be lucky to know. So yeah, no…not “enough of the gay stuff”. 

*throws glitter in the air and walks off*

- Briggon 

skam messages

“I became insecure and desperate. Your opinion meant more to me than my own and that’s not how it should be. I have to find out what my opinion is. And I have to do it on my own.“

“But I can’t continue having regrets for the rest of my life… I wish I could do it all over again, completely different. But I can’t. I’m just going to have to accept it and move on.”

“Everybody is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.”

“You are strong and independent when you can change your opinions. No matter what gender changes you.”

“War doesn’t start with violence. It starts with misunderstandings and prejudice.”

“If you say you’re in favour of a world of peace, you have to try to understand why others think and act the way they do.”

“People experience horrible things everyday and still manage to be nice to others. Being an asshole is not something you’re born with, or something you become. It’s a choice.”

“Hate doesn’t come from religion, it comes from fear.”

“Whether you believe in Allah or Jesus or the theory of evolution or parallel universes, there’s only one thing we know for certain. That life is… now.”

“Do you know how many people I know who say they believe in Allah? But they still drink, steal and vandalize. What’s more important? Saying you believe in Allah or live like you believe in Allah?”

I love that skam can place important and meaningful messages within the show not just through actions and events but also in the dialogue without sounding cliché or slipping from the narrative voice. These are legitimate things that teenagers think about and say. Yes, they’re mature but it comes from reflection, observation, and learning about how the world works and who we are. It’s never dumbed down to the point that it sounds cheesy or discredits teenagers’ ability to genuinely think, and it’s not so elevated and structured that it sounds fake or forced. It’s raw and real and beautiful

-sigh-

Look, folks.  I do my absolute best to be friendly to people online, especially those who are friendly to me.  But I would like to make something clear.

Please do not mistake friendliness and openness for generosity.  I am a professional artist and quite frankly cannot afford to be generous with my art.  It is, after all, my trade.

The fact of the matter is that I cannot and will not take requests.  I have said so countless times.  I know some of you ask very nicely, but while I do appreciate the politeness, the answer is unfortunately still “no.”  Repeated requests will only have the effect of making me more staunch (and probably annoyed) in that response.

I sincerely, sincerely appreciate that folks enjoy my art.  Nothing brings me more happiness than that.  But I ask that you please respect my boundaries here.  “No” means “no.”

he likes to read

(this wants with all its heart to be a multichapter fic but i need instant gratification sooo)


He likes to read.

He likes to read and Kent likes him, and he really doesn’t know what to do about this fact.

Kent ran into him – well, ran past him, really – on a morning jog, in a usually deserted area of the community park where trees have been planted and are carefully watered to give the appearance of a verdant, lush grove in the middle of sunny, dusty Nevada. He was standing against a tree and reading, and when Kent jogged back to ask what he was doing, the man laughed and pointed to his book. Walden.

Kent’s never read it. The man shrugs. “It’s about a man who gave up his whole life to go live in the woods,” he says. “I used to go to Walden Pond and re-read it once a summer. But now I’m here and, well… this is as close to the woods as I can get.”

His name is James. He’s a high school English teacher. He shakes Kent’s sweaty hand and asks his name, what he does for a living.

Kent blinks at him hard. “You…” he starts. He was about to say, you don’t know?

“Me? You do me?” James cracks a smile. “Is that a pick-up line?”

His smile is sunny, and Kent breaks a little bit inside. He finds himself quickly enough to say, “Would it work?”

Keep reading

a little rant

it breaks my heart to know and realize that kenta had to perform on mcountdown knowing that he was eliminated still he delivered such an amazing performance and did his best as always, there was a photo of kenta crying after the performance and it makes me cry so much because he knows that it’s his last stage, that he won’t be able to perform on stage anymore 😭 the fact that he told mnet to give him screen time yet he got nothing and kenta kept getting cut off makes me so mad because mnet was so terrible and awful to him since the start, and now he got eliminated and we didn’t even get to see his last words?? they have always showed him crying whenever the trainees were eliminated and kenta was saying goodbye to them but with kenta getting eliminated we got nothing….NOTHING i swear mnet can choke i hate this bye

If you think about it, everyone of us will die. Rich, poor, young, old, whatever you have achieved or whoever you are, all of us have the same destination. Dust to earth. So why then do we keep on burdening ourselves, killing ourselves with anxiety, filling our days and nights with incessant thoughts of what to do, or what to accomplish, or if we have enough, or how to have more than enough, when all of it, all of it, regardless of our achievements, popularity, fame, and money, stand nothing in the face of death?

Why then can’t we just live simply and happy and contented, and be kind to everyone and anyone we meet?

Why then do we need to prove to ourselves that we can do this and that, have this and that, be this and that, when even a second from now is not really ours?

Why then do we wait forever before we say I love you to the person we love, and why don’t we spend time with the people who really matters to us when all we really have is this life and this lifetime to expend?

If you think about it, everyone of us will die.

Why then do we let ourselves suffer so much?
—  cynthia go // If you think about it
red queen characters as parks and rec quotes
  • Shade: If I had to have a stripper name, it would be Equality.
  • Julian: I think you've got several options. They're all terrible... but you have them.
  • Farley: Guys love it when you can show them you're better than they are at something they love.
  • Evangeline: If you ever speak to me in Spanish, please use the formal “usted.”
  • Elara: Not to worry. I have a permit. *hands them a a piece of paper saying "I can do what I want"
  • Kilorn: Guys, can you please shut up? I can't hear myself not talking to Mare.
  • Cameron: It's fine. It's just that life is pointless and nothing matters and I'm always tired.
  • Mare: My instinct is to be mean to you.
  • Maven : I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.
  • Ptolemus: I have never taken the high road. But I tell other people to because then there's more room for me on the low road.
  • Tib 6: Horizons are dumb. Never broaden your horizons.
  • Cal: I would like to be king someday, so no, I've not smoked marijuana. I ate a brownie once at a party in college. It was intense. It was kind of indescribable, actually. I felt like I was floating. Turns out there wasn't any pot in the brownie. It was just an insanely good brownie.
  • Elane: I passed up a gay Halloween party to be here. Do you know how fun gay Halloween parties are?

anonymous asked:

McHanzo #45? :3

“Tell me a secret.”

Hanzo stretches his arms above his head, gives a contented sigh as the motion pulls out the tightness in his shoulders and spine, and resettles with his arms crossed under the pillow. Beside him, he catches McCree watching him, his gaze flickering down Hanzo’s nude body until it hits the blanket over his lower back, then up again, admiring. Hanzo resists the urge to preen under the attention.

“How’d I ever get so lucky,” McCree murmurs. He rolls onto his side to face Hanzo, leaving a scant few inches between them that, compared to the utter lack of space a few minutes prior, feels like a vast expanse. He reaches over to tenderly brush a piece of hair from Hanzo’s face. Hanzo lets his eyes close, enjoying the simple touch for what it is.

The room around them is dark, the blinds drawn shut with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through at the edge. The rest of the base is utterly quiet, everyone else having gone to sleep. They are the only two awake, and here int his room, they have an intimate bubble all to themselves separate the vast grounds of the Watchpoint.

McCree’s fingers stroke down the side of Hanzo’s face reverently. “Hey,” he says. When Hanzo opens his eyes, McCree continues, “Tell me a secret.”

“A secret?” Hanzo repeats.

“Somethin’ you haven’t told anyone else. I wanna know something about you that no one else does.”

Hanzo thinks for a moment. Eventually, he offers, “I used to think Genji’s green hair made him look like a carrot.”

McCree coughs out a surprised laugh. “What?”

“He used to wear this orange scarf when we were younger, which was fine by itself, but once he dyed his hair … I never told him. He seemed so pleased that I did not want to ruin it for him.”

McCree chuckles, shaking his head awkwardly against the pillow. “As amazin’ as that is,” he says, “I wanted to hear something about you.”

Then perhaps you should give me an example for me to go by.”

McCree hums. His thumb stops its repetitive strokes against Hanzo’s cheek. “I guess that’s fair,” he says. “In that case … I used to have a Deadlock tattoo, right here on my left arm.” He slightly wiggles the arm tucked under his pillow. “Before it got blew off. I could’ve gotten rid of the tat easy, but I kept it. I told everyone I just didn’t wanna deal with the hassle, but truth is, I kept it to remind myself where I came from. I didn’t wanna forget what I did when I was younger. It was horrible, but I wanted to remember so I wouldn’t ever go back to that again.”

He looks just a bit ashamed as he finishes his story, his gaze somewhere over Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo takes the hand resting against his face and presses a kiss to the knuckles.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

McCree laughs once. “Yeah,” he replies. Then he meets Hanzo’s eye again. “So. What about you?”

Hanzo thinks for a long moment, trying to find some detail of his life to match the intimacy of what McCree just shared with him. He has told every detail of his part in Genji’s death, now, and most of what the Shimada clan was like. Everything else seems either too shameful or too tame. Finally, though, he settles on something. 

“I have … I have never had something like this before,” he says softly. 

“Like what?”

“This relationship. Us.” McCree says nothing, waiting for him to continue, so he does. “I had no interest in others, growing up, and the clan always came first. I could have pursued someone, if I chose, but I did not. There were a few brief flings with others, one-night stands, but never someone I … really cared for. And after Genji, I simply did not think of it again. I was lonely, perhaps, but it did not matter, because I did not deserve it.”

“Oh, darlin’,” McCree starts to say, but Hanzo shakes head against his pillow. 

“I know you will say that is not the case, but that is not the point I am trying to make,” he says. “But that is my secret. Everything with us is new to me.”

McCree’s gaze holds steady with his. “And now?” he asks. “Is this all alright?”

Hanzo smiles. He scoots forward on the pillow until he can press his brow against McCree’s, brushing the tips of their noses together. 

“It is more than alright,” he says. “It is more than I could have ever hoped to have.”

Newcomers Pt2

Admiral Polts Personal journal.

It’s been about a week since the humans arrived and they now make up one third of our cerw, they have settled in well, almost too well as they have made this fleet and it’s ships their own. I have been doing research on them and although the reports are conflicting and sketchy they do all say that humans will change their environment to make it more suitable to them. Which is why the unused cargo hold is now something called a “puppy pen” and they are holding nightly events where they gather and play games about exploring a dungeon. They are also oddly easy to get along with, they take almost no offence when insults are thrown at them and if anything speak worse to one another. Their commander Captain Clerk assures me this is all natural that humans bring their home with them but will try to keep from taking over too much of the fleet.

So far the only race that has any problem with them are the Benemar, but the Humans have not risen to any challenge by them, not sure how long that will last.

On a side note I have orderd the fleet not to eat or drink the humans food, it.s just plain poisonous and how they manage to digest it is beyond me!!.

A number of humans were in the canteen eating a delicacy called “curry” a number of the other alien crew had tried some and apparently the sauce did not agree with them. It burned through one of their stomachs, luckily he survived. The third day of the human week was considered curry day and was sacred to them, along with “tacos” on the second day. Their meal was interrupted by sergeant Cathy calling for everyone’s attention.

“Excuse me everyone” the talking stopped and they looked over at her, she was clearly distressed.

“Has anyone seen Troy?”

“Your beagle?” asked another Human.

“Yeah, he isn’t in the puppy pen”

“Maybe someone took him for a walk?”

“I thought of that but he hasn’t been signed out”

All the Humans looked at each other and a silent agreement passed between them all as they all put down their food and left the canteen to go find Troy leaving a number of the non human crew alone.

“What’s a beagle?” Kio asked his mate.

After only one hour every Human on the ship was looking for him, they checked every vent, every cannon and every inch of the ship and were soon resorting to handing out picture of Troy asking if anyone had seen him. To the non Humans this behaviour was odd, this animal was not part of the crew or their squad yet every one of the Humans was distressed about it being missing.

Cathy found a number Benemar wrestling in the gym and approached them.

“Excuse me”

“Huh? A Human, what are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my dog Troy, here’s a picture of him please let me know if you see him”

The Benemar clan leader took the picture and a smile crawled across his face, he handed it to the others who all mimicked his expression.

“We have seen this thing little Human”

“You have!!! Where?” she asked eagerly.

“Well you might have trouble finding him now” he laughed

“What?”

“We wanted to try Human food, this animal barley had any meat on him I don’t know why you keep them”

Cathy looked up at them her face blank, no emotion and her voice flat.

“You…ate him?”

“Yeah, I mean this creature makes a pitiful meal and cried the moment we picked it up, stupid animal”

“You…ate Troy?”

“You deaf yes, if you are looking for us to be sorry for eating your food, tough we are Benemar and our laws say only the strong eat”

“You…you….”

Cathy was shaking and her hands curling into fists, her face went from calm to rage in a single terrifying moment. “YOU ATE MY DOG!!!”

She lunged at him and proceeded to tear him apart.

Admiral Polt and Capitan Clerk sat opposite each other in Polt’s office, the silence between them was vast as Clerk had said something that Polt did not expect.

“Can you say that again please for the record” Polt asked.

“I believe Cathy’s reaction was justified” Clerk said with no uncertainty in his voice.

“She killed the Benemar clan leader, his chief is demanding justice”

“If he wants to try and get it he is free to, but in my eyes and my superiors she has done no wrong as under our law dogs are given the same basic rights as us”

“But it’s just as dog?”

“IT’S NOT JUST A—-” Clerk said slamming his hand down on the table but quickly calmed himself “It’s not just a dog, it is “A” dog”

Polt nearly fled the room when Clerk slammed his hand, after seeing what remained of the Benemar he had no desire to anger another Human.

“I loved that dog, we all did and love all the dogs we brought with us, for someone to…eat one is…”

“It’s okay I understand, I shall speak the chief”

“Thankyou” Clerk said leaving and Polt called the chief to his office.

“What do yo mean you are taking no action?” the chief screamed.

“By their laws sergeant Cathy has done no wrong and was well within her rights”

“She killed one of my clan leaders!”

“Rather impressive for a Human half his size don’t you think? You saw the body, do you really want to take this further? If so I’m sure Captain Clerk would be happy for you to”

“What was it about that animal that they hold so dear?”

“I’m, glad you asked” Polt said pulling out a small folder “i have been reading up on Humans for a few weeks now and there is an interesting bit about dogs I believe will help put this in perspective. They have co-existed and co-evolved for over 30.000 years. The bond between a Human and a Dog is so strong that no words need pass between them for each to know what the other wants. They have fought battles together and have made homes together and Humans care for their dogs as if they were their own children and dogs protect and serve the humans as they are a loving parent. No other race in the galaxy has a companion quite like the Humans have dogs, to belittle or harm their companions in any way will bring their full wrath down upon you”

Polt closed the book and looked at the Benemar chief who had said nothing, he left without saying another word to quickly tell his own warriors to leave these dogs alone.

Polt breathed, another crisis averted and he could move onto more pressing matters, like this Sergeant Stabby that was visiting next month and has all the Humans excited, he worried as to why.

Flufflet #3 for @lifeinahole27 as a reward for writing her CSBB!

Sometime after the season 6 finale, the gang decides to look into the whole “song inside me” thing, and Blue is able to return their memories of the whole debacle.


“I can’t believe we forgot all this,” Snow said, almost whispering.

“It was necessary,” Blue said, like that explained everything, which it didn’t. But this was Blue, so it was about as good of an explanation as anyone was ever going to get.

“Yeah, well, it was a memory I could have done without,” Regina said, as though she had a bad taste in her mouth. “Me, singing and dancing like some kind of …”

"Don’t say it,” David warned.

“Disney character,” Henry finished. “I wish I could have seen it and heard it. All I have is the page here.”

“Look,” Emma said. “What matters is that all of your songs–the happy ones, the sad ones, the angry ones–all of them, that’s what I needed to keep the Black Fairy from crushing my heart. So even if you’re embarrassed now, I’m grateful.”

Snow and David smiled almost beatifically, and Regina sighed. Zelena shrugged. “I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about; I sounded fantastic.”

“Better than me?” David challenged.

“I think the Rabbit Hole does karaoke,” Snow said. “If we want to find out.”

Emma snickered at the thought of her dad and Zelena going head to head in a karaoke competition. Killian, though, was uncharacteristically silent.

Actually, he’d been quiet the whole time. She turned to look at him, but he refused to meet her gaze, staring at Blue instead. Weird.


“So, what’s wrong?” she asked as she plopped down on the bed and watched as he finished pulling on his pajamas.

“What’s that, love?”

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird since Blue gave you guys your … musical memories back. Why?” She paused. “Was your song embarrassing or something?”

“No.”

“Well, I know you can’t be insecure about your singing voice. You already know I think you’ve got a sexy one.”

He chuckled. “No.”

“Well, what then? And don’t tell me you’re not upset because we both know you are.”

He sighed as he climbed into bed and pulled her into his arms. “All right, but it’s … odd, I suppose.”

“I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and I’m married to Captain Hook. My closest friends are the Evil Queen, and her sister, the Wicked Witch, and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. I think I’m good with odd.”

“Not sure it’s the same variety of odd, love, but fair enough.”

“Just tell me.”

“I’m trying to.” He paused. “You recall your parents and Regina discussing their musical tete-a-tete?”

“Yeah.” God, she would have paid so much money to see that.

“They showed up at the tavern I was drinking at, offered me all the gold and jewels I wanted, and asked for me to take them to Regina. I refused their payment, insisting the only thing that would satisfy me would be my revenge.”

“And by insisting, I’m assuming …”

“Aye, I may have insisted rather musically,” he admitted.

“So you’re upset because you refused?”

“No, I agreed,” he said. “They realized I wanted revenge on the Dark One and told me they had him prisoner. We struck a deal, and I brought them to Regina as requested.”

“Okay.” Was he upset that her parents had almost been complicit in him murdering Gold? That he’d brought them to Regina like they’d asked? “I don’t get what’s wrong,” she admitted.

“I–” He took a deep breath. “It’s just so strange.”

“Killian–”

“Emma, you were there.”

“I–what? No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

Oh. Oh.

“So you’re upset because you bumped into my mom when she was pregnant with me?”

“I’m not upset,” he corrected. “It’s just odd, isn’t it? Here I am, singing about how all I care about is revenge, and my unborn wife is right there.”

She couldn’t help it. She wished she could have, with her husband sitting next to her, clearly struggling with the whole scenario. She should have been supportive and understanding.

But she couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

“Oi, this isn’t funny, Swan.” The giggles would not stop. “Swan, please, you can’t tell me you don’t find this at least slightly strange!”

“Oh come on,” she said, trying to regain her breath. “Killian, you’re, like, three hundred years older than I am and that hasn’t mattered to either of us.”

“But this is different!”

“Not that different.” She burst out laughing again. “Oh my god, you, like … practically serenaded me while I was in the womb!”

“It wasn’t a serenade, and I wasn’t–love, you must stop laughing.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” But she couldn’t.

He sighed angrily and moved away, turning to shut off the lamp on his nightstand. “Well, good night, then.”

“Killian, come on.” Okay, it was less funny now. Still funny, obviously, but with how upset he was getting, she needed to cut it out. “Look, it’s really not that weird.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Will it be weird when I get pregnant to sing to our unborn kid?” He didn’t answer. “Because that’s a normal thing, you know? And then they come out and grow up into adults, and you don’t sit there feeling weird that you used to sing to them before they were born.”

Not that she’d had any experience in that area. Even if she hadn’t had a cellmate in juvie, she probably wouldn’t have tried singing to her baby bump. But that had been a different situation; if Neal hadn’t given her up, and they’d stayed together, the two of them would definitely have done it.

“I know that’s different,” she said, when Killian didn’t respond. At least her giggles had subsided. “Because it’s your kid and not your future spouse. But still, it’s really not that weird.”

“No, that’s not it.” His voice was tentative, like he was unsure of what he was about to say. “Just … when you get pregnant?”

She froze. She’d made offhanded references to hypothetical siblings for Henry, but at no point had she explicitly told Hook that she wanted more kids. And now it had just kind of slipped out, and not in a way that she would have wanted to put it when she eventually brought it up.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I know we haven’t talked about it. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“No, no.” And now his arms were around her again. “You want more children, Emma?”

“I mean … yeah, I do. I guess we should have talked about it before we got married and stuff.”

“Because you believe that I’m not interested in having children with you?”

“I didn’t say that,” she pointed out. “Just, you’ve told me that Milah never wanted more kids and you were fine with that.”

“I loved Milah deeply,” he said. “I knew that being with her meant that my only experience as a father would be if we went back for Baelfire, and I was willing to accept that life. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want children of my own.”

“Oh.”

His arms tightened around her. “Swan, I would love to have children with you. More than anything.”

“Oh?” Her heart beat faster.

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay, but you have to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ve got to sing that song for me.”