i honestly don't know but yes

So, yes. I’m aware I complain a lot and I’m aware it gets annoying – for that I’m sorry. I know a lot of my role playing has been short rps and crack and that I take forever to respond to things, I’m sorry for that too. I honestly don’t have an explanation… and I’m also aware I’m really starting to burn my bridges in this fandom. I’m glad for those who find me funny and continue to talk to me even with how… annoying, for lack of better word, I can be.

I like to talk A LOT and that can get annoying… but those of you who still like me even when I get overly excited and talkative, I love you guys. I’m trying to figure out how to be more positive. I can either be really confident in myself… or really insecure. I’m trying to have more confident days. 

WHAT I REALLY WANT is for you guys to enjoy what I do. Even when it’s all crack, I HOPE to bring smiles and keep you guys laughing. I love comedy and I love when people tell me they think I’m funny. Of course, I’ve been wanting to start getting my darker side more noticed in my writing, but because my memory is depleting and I haven’t been able to focus, writing has been REALLY HARD. I hope you all understand. 

I’m sorry for complaining so much… I hope you all enjoy what I DO have to offer besides that, though.

i was listening to this song and i really don’t know what i was going for but after this long art block im happy i was able to finally chuck something out. all those in favor of Ari’s bby ponytail say aye. (and dante’s cute messy short hair)

anonymous asked:

alec punching raphael? hell to the no, i hope magnus won't let that pass

Honestly yes. I’ve seen posts on my dash that are willing to excuse Alec’s behaviour, that because it’s his sister that it is completely fine for him to go around lashing at Magnus and punching Raphael for something which has a lot of negative associations attached to it.

Of course I understand that Alec is protective of Isabelle, that’s his sister, but don’t go around lashing out just because you didn’t notice what Isabelle was struggling with. Not with Magnus tried to give Isabelle an out earlier on, not when Raphael went out of his way to make sure Isabelle was okay. He was there for her when no one was, he wanted to help get her out of that situations and instead Isabelle played him (consent issues here because that was not okay) and after that too Raphael shared things about his past, things that he would have rather forget, but he did try and help her. Raphael owes the shadowhunters nothing. Keep reminding yourself that when you’re there preaching about why it’s absolutely fine that Alec is punching Raphael.

Raphael owes them shit. Isabelle and Clary betrayed Raphael, Clary used Raphael to get blood for Jace, and then used Simon to get Camille from Raphael. After what Isabelle did to Raphael in 1x13, I’m surprised Raphael even bothered to help her out, but he did because he sympathised. So you know what, Alec Lightwood can have a nice chat with himself and what he’s doing, because I’m not going to support it one bit, (my opinion, sorry).

Also if Isabelle is Alec’s sister than Raphael is Magnus’ son. And I do hope Magnus doesn’t let it pass. Because you can see how much Magnus cares about Raphael, he literally raised him up. So yeah. I’m not saying it, because I’m gonna get hate either way, but I don’t agree one bit with Alec punching Raphael and I hope Magnus steps in.

After the election, I didn’t sleep. Around four in the morning I got an unexpected phone call from someone who I thought only spoke to me as an excuse to tease me. Everything he’s ever said has been full of obscenities and 5edgy, and it only intensifies when he’s drunk or stoned. But… he was utterly sincere, and compassionate, and soft in ways I never expected from him. Suspected, yes - deep down and buried under all the posturing rubbish.

And honestly? That meant more to me than anything my friends or family have said. This is a guy who talks in perpetual capslock and usually says the most irritating or inappropriate thing he can imagine. Hearing earnest gentleness from him was surreal but oddly comforting.

Can we talk about this scene? Okay, we all know this is a heartbreaking moment for everyone involved, but there is something that really stood out to me. The last thing Dean says to his mom is, “You’re home now,” which sets off the rest of the conversation. There is nearly four minutes after this where Mary continues to talk and then the episode ends, and Dean says absolutely nothing at all. Four minutes of no dialogue whatsoever on his part. Mary keeps explaining, leaving these long moments between sentences where she expects Dean to say something and he doesn’t, so she jumps in again and tries to explain more. When Sam finally interjects and asks what she means, it’s only after a quick look to Dean to realize he’s not going to do it. Even Sam is expecting him to say something, and he just doesn’t. This is so important to me. Can you recall a time in the series where Dean is in the shot for more than a few minutes and doesn’t say anything? Or a time when someone repeatedly trails off to let him respond and then he doesn’t? This is the first real time where we’ve seen Dean so thoroughly broken and upset that he physically doesn’t have words. He is rendered speechless. You can see it in the way he breathes, the way he audibly exhales in disbelief, the way he blinks in this quick progression as he processes what must feel like his heart being ripped out of his chest. He could beg his mom to stay. Plead with her. Tell her things will get better and everything will be okay. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mom waits for it. Sam waits for it (Sam, who knows him better than anyone else, waits for him to say something). And there’s nothing. No questions. No promises. No attempt to do anything at all to sway her decision. The last thing he says is, “You’re home now.”

ponyregrets  asked:

look I'm just saying there are some good sex scenes in that garbage movie so you know bellamy could finger clarke at a club OR she could ride him on the couch and that would be A++ right?

I honestly still cannot believe someone paid for that movie to happen.

Bellamy had his hips pressed against hers so tightly she thought she might combust, and when he dropped his lips to her neck she let her forehead fall to his shoulder with a sigh.  Clarke could feel, rather than hear, the pounding of the bass from the DJ and she slipped her hands underneath his shirt to press against his bare skin.  She was just drunk enough to do this; her brain fuzzy enough that she could say they were just messing around and not changing everything.  He was her best friend and she was reasonably sure best friends didn’t do this, but she was also reasonably sure if she stopped touching him she might die, so the risk was worth it.  They were in a dark corner of the club and she wasn’t sure how they ended up separated from everyone else but she didn’t want to find them, because Bellamy’s arms around her and his teeth scraping against her skin was the best thing she had ever felt.

But then he spun her around and his hand banded across her ribcage to pull her against him and she decided that was the best thing she had ever felt.  His chest against her back, his dick hard against her ass, and his hand just below her sternum to keep her in place.  They writhed with the music and he moved his mouth to the shell of her ear as his hand inched down.  “Okay, princess?” he asked when his finger nudged the waistband of her skirt, and Clarke moaned in response.

His hand went lower and god, she was glad none of their friends were around.  Bellamy’s other hand flexed around her hip when his fingers parted her soaking folds and he cursed softly in her ear.  Clarke laughed and tipped her head back to kiss his jaw, her arm draped up and around his neck.  His movements were sloppy and inexact but it didn’t matter because they’d been dancing like this for the better part of an hour and every single nerve in her body was primed, poised just on the edge of a cliff over which there was no return.

Bellamy thrust one finger inside of her and she came with a sharp cry, her walls clenching down on him as the music built to a crescendo.  He pulled his fingers away and she whined and spun around, intending to beg him for more. Instead she watched him lick his fingers clean and her knees nearly buckled with want.

Clarke kissed him then— their first real kiss, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what it would be like, but she never thought it would taste like her— and his hands came to hold her face close.  “We have to leave,” she gasped against his mouth.  “Now.”

“They’ll wonder where we’ve gone,” he said, but he sounded just as gone as she was.

“They’ll figure it out,” Clarke said, and took his hand to drag him from the club and back to her bedroom.

They could tell their friends tomorrow.

I mean if you honestly think that Raphael would hurt Mama Lewis, I don’t know what to tell you. One of Raphael’s defining character traits is how much he loved his mother, and he has done nothing but help Simon since he turned, and Simon wouldn’t even be “alive” if it weren’t for Raphael saving him.

Like, yes, Raphael’s methods of helping are unconventional and not always morally sound, but at the end of the day, he was saying and doing what needed to be done to protect his clan and family, which he has stated multiple times, includes Simon, even after the betrayal. Raphael wouldn’t let harm come to Simon’s mom if he could do anything to stop it, and he certainly wouldn’t do it himself. And now Simon is going to be much more motivated to find Camille, which is great, because honestly, Mrs. Lewis, (like the entire clan) is in danger from Camille just because she is Simon’s mom, and Camille is not above killing mundanes for spite and fun.

But Raphael is. 

So yeah, was this Raphael’s nicest moment? No. But it will take a lot more than that to ever make me doubt his character and I trust the Shadowhunters writers, they haven’t let me down yet on the Raphael and Saphael front. 

  • ZEN [giving a speech in the RFA party]: Ah yes, I love all the members of the RFA.
  • ZEN: MC, Kim Yoosung, Choi Luciel, Kang Jaehee and *looks at smudged writing on hand* Jumanji!

It still boggles my mind to see a whole game that involves Roxas and the strong bonds he makes with Axel and Xion and how much he fights to discover the truth about himself and just be happy and eat ice cream with his friends

to be completely overshadowed/disregarded because he has to join his other half and even pair up with a person he hardly knows.

anonymous asked:

You amazing beautiful sweet human, what would we do without you? Shola, you deserve all the love. The world had better be good to you because you make it a better place. You are worthy of so much love. You are so incredibly amazing and wonderful. Just by you existing a little more light is put out into the world. You're such a great person, you really are.

All the ‘Free Melania’ signs, and others of the same idea, honestly make me uncomfortable.

Yes, I fully believe that Drumpf is capable of being an abuser.  In fact, the world knows he is, due to reports from his first wife, and other women he has abused.  I do think it’s possible that he may be holding the fact that she’s an immigrant over her - he would hardly be the first man to do so.

However, the signs never seem to be coming from a place serious about Melania actually being in danger, actually being in a potentially dangerous marriage.  They come off as a joke, and this isn’t something to joke about.  How many of the people with these signs will stand with her if it does come out that he is abusing her?  How many will say that she should have come forward sooner?  Soon enough to keep him from being elected?  Soon enough to keep him from being nominated?

Be aware that, while many of us may not agree with what she believes in, she may be in a very dangerous place, and that ins’t something to joke about.  No matter what.

Ok, small question for you my darlings, we all know watching someone’s filmography can be overwhelming at time so I was wondering, any of you have a list of the must watch first when it comes to Jemma? I’ve watch Frankie and of course Dr Who, Howard’s End and Bramwell but I honestly don’t know what to watch next.

I wonder if I am the only one but my heart broke seeing Mark at his school. He looks tired honestly just tired. And while I’m glad he debuted he needs his rest. Like come on now. He has worked non-stop last and starting this year and now he will be in this competition show ….. I’m happy but I hope he rests soon.

As an entertainer, yes entertain us do what you have to do (but 1000 out of 10 do what you love) but please know the mind body spirit are just as vital.
Yeah sure Mark is in SM and he might have known what he was asking for. Okay …but jeez the kid is only human. He has such more importance than just always performing. How about him resting ? Eating? Sleeping? Hanging out with friends and family ? Learning? Laughing? And more ? All of these are important or just what ever he feels like is important to him.
He is still growing and learning mentally and physically and I just want him to go on with confidence and be happy.

anonymous asked:

Part 2 of Takao's fem best friend's unrequited love please?? An extra req, if you're gonna do a time skip, can you pls not make it longer than two months? I'd like those emotions to be raw, esp right after Takao knows of her feelings ^^ Thank you!

Anonymous said: Takao anon here! Yes, I’m the original anon who requested the first scenario. Um, honestly, I can’t think of any general plot for this 2nd one; all I actually want is a continuation of the 1st scenario, with more angst before the happy ending~ and yep, I want Takao to return his best friend’s feelings! ^^ So aside from the 2-month specified time, angst+happy ending, and Takao returning (maybe realizing his hidden feelings for her?) that love, like you said, I allow you to do whatever you want. 

I hope you’re not mad at me for delaying this for so long! I honestly don’t know how to feel about this, but here it is, I really hope it’s satisfactory. Since you like the feelings raw, I didn’t put a time skip. Thank you for your patience!

This is a continuation to this story here. You are heavily suggested to proceed only after reading the first part. Female!Reader ahead for consistency. 

It Was Always You by Maroon 5

Originally posted by grrungegoddess

Stupid stupid stupid stupid, he thinks, hands balled into fists at how completely idiotic he is. He should’ve just straightaway ran to your house instead of asking your friends, waiting for them to pick the phone up to ask them where you were, if you were partying with them—that way, he could’ve caught you before it got dark. Although he’s close to your family as your best friend, how is he supposed to knock on the door to your home at nearly midnight? 

What is he going to say if your parents open the front door?

What is he going to say if you are the one who opens the door?

Takao sighs, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt and loosening his tie. His hair sticks on his face from sweat, but in contrast to his slightly ragged breath and the sensation of the cold air against his damp skin, his mind is numb. 

He can see your bedroom window from here. It’s dark. You’re probably asleep. The idea of throwing rocks at your window is quickly discarded—you most likely don’t want to look at him in the face again.

The glare of his phone catches his eye and tells him that his girlfriend is looking for him: ten missed calls and a couple dozen of texts, gradually changing tone from sweet questions of where he’s at to a storm of textual rage. He turns off the device—she’s the least of his concerns right now. Takao sits on your empty porch with empty eyes and a rabbit heart as his mind flashes him images of the last few times he hung out with you.

When he can only recall conversations about his relationship and that forced smile on your face, he curses. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he says to himself, feeling as if his heart is in the fist of a phantom hand, painfully clenching the organ. 

The two of you don’t even talk to each other these days—at least nothing of substance like your usual deep or humorous exchanges. Since the end of his second year in Shuutoku, which is around the time he found his “soulmate” (Takao swallows bitterness at the word—how did he have the gall to use it so lightly?), the conversations he shared with you were shallow banter with him mostly talking about his girlfriend and you having to listen. He’d ask for relationship advice, what a girl likes, where to take her on dates. 

You were probably forcing laughter, faking smiles, crying yourself to sleep when you’re alone.

Takao let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. The night is dark and quiet save for the occasional gust of wind and sounds of crickets singing between the grass, but his mind is loud and disorganized: a mix of realization, question, and self-deprecation. The way you looked at him when he talks, how other people seem to let their gazes linger on you and him—everybody knew, even Midorima noticed, for heaven’s sake. How could he miss the signs? How could he be so blinded, even when he was the one that told you “nothing is going to change” when he got a girlfriend?

If only he could go back in time and punch himself in the face for saying that to you. It obviously turned out to be a lie, no matter how he didn’t mean it to be one. He didn’t just replace you, he made you suffer by putting it in your face for at least one year and you say a single word against it.

He blinks, and a tear slowly makes its way down his cheek. It takes a moment for Takao to realize that he’s crying, but when he does, a wave of thoughts darker than the sky he’s under flood his mind: there’s no way you don’t hate him right now, not when he’s caused you nothing but pain for a long time. That’s why you didn’t talk to him after the graduation ceremony, that’s why you’ve been rejecting his offers to lunch together, that’s why you’ve been oddly quiet whenever the two of you hung out. 

He remembers the big game Shuutoku won and how he doesn’t recall you congratulating him. It must’ve been since then. He must’ve hurt you so much without realizing, like the Prince in The Little Mermaid and how he asked her to dance the night away, not knowing of the swords she feels like she’s stepping on. And like the Prince, too, he discarded her for another, despite the sacrifices she has made and the pain she must endure.

Then, he thinks about what will happen next. His apology won’t be enough, not after what you’ve been through. You’ll grow to despise him, cutting him off from your life like removing a parasitic infection—that’s what he’s been anyway, sucking the life and love out of you. You won’t look at him in the face again when you pass by each other on the street. He might have his girlfriend in one arm, but the thought of him not being in your life coils a rope in his chest.

And when he thinks of you having another person by your side, someone who shares kisses with you, someone who gets to make you smile and laugh, the only one who is allowed to hold you in their arms—and that someone is not him…

Takao feels like he’s been physically hurt, but there are no wounds on his skin to show.

He spends the rest of the night punishing himself in the chest with these thoughts sharp as blade, bleeding tears into the night until he’s too tired to stay awake.

You wake up the next morning with puffy red eyes, gauging that it is approaching afternoon by the strong sunlight that enters your bedroom. The weight of your heavy heart is somewhat diminished, not only by the fact that you cried your eyes out the night before, but also by the faint feeling of hunger. After brushing your teeth and a brisk shower, you change into clean T-shirt and shorts, not bothering to conceal your swollen eyes since you’re staying at home for the rest of the day.

Your parents should already be away for work at this time of the day, leaving you alone in your house. Your assumptions are confirmed when you walk downstairs to find silence—even the television is off. 

So when you enter the kitchen to find Takao, sitting with a plate of half-eaten toast in front of him, you gasp as if you’ve seen a ghost.

He does look ghastly, his paler face contrasting to the marks under his eyes. He shows signs of surprise as well when he sees you, which quickly dissolves into hesitance. He’s here with the full intention of talking to you, apologizing, telling you how stupid he was and how he realizes he doesn’t want a life without you—

—you don’t even know he knows.


“__________-chan,” he says with a start—weird since he’s the one barging in your house. He realizes your swollen eyes and remembers that he spent the night crying too, but he can only hope that you don’t notice.

“What are you—how did you get it?” You look at the front door and back at him again, positive that the entrance is properly locked.

“Your parents let me in,” he answers, “I came here in the morning.” Takao still can see your mother’s reaction when she finds him sleeping on a chair as she checks the porch every morning. She was surprised more than anything, but she didn’t ask when he said he has something very important to say to you.

Maybe she knows, and from the way your father glanced at him before offering him breakfast, Takao thinks he knows too. Have you been so upset that your parents notice what’s going on, though you’re not the type to tell them? Did they mention his name during a family dinner, and all of a sudden you just got quiet, like when he mentions his girlfriend’s name? Did they hear your sounds of sobbing across the hallway at night?

“Oh,” you answer dumbly, making a sandwich for yourself as you face the kitchen counter. You don’t want him looking at you, not when you’re like this: vulnerable and unprepared. “What brings you here today?”

“I—you—” he trips on his own words, “__________-chan, we need to talk.”

Fear overcomes you for a split second at the seriousness of his tone. Takao has rarely used it in his conversations with you, but after knowing him for so long, you can tell. He means business.

“What about?” You ask, putting a slice of cheese on toast before busying your hands with something, anything. You don’t want to talk to him.

“__________-chan, look at me.”

You freeze for a moment and hope he doesn’t notice, but Takao does not hold the nickname Hawk Eye for nothing. You slowly turn to him, looking at him in the eye, keeping your defences up with whatever dignity you have left in you.

In front of you stands the boy who you had your heart in his hands, and instead of looking powerful and confident, he’s not much better than you are. For a second you are tempted to throw in a joke about his face—he must’ve partied so hard and the hangover still hasn’t subsided, but you know the humorous attempt is merely a cover-up of the truth.

“__________-chan,” he calls your name again, softer this time as if reminiscing a memory, “do you… like me?”

At that point, thoughts of lying to him, telling him that of course you do—you’re not best friends if you don’t, are thrown out the window. There’s no use for sugar-coating and false masks anymore. Your grip to whatever leash that has been keeping your sanity together loosens, and tears begin to pool in your eyes as fast as he made you fall in love with him, breaking the dam.

You defy his orders, looking down to the floor and covering your face with both hands. Takao’s eyes widen only a fraction before he feels a pang in his heart. He knows you don’t usually cry in front of people, that you prefer to let loose when you are alone in your room—the fact that you’re openly crying in the kitchen with the cause of your pain right in front of you is proof that he made you go through a lot.

He feels like he’s suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I—I tried not to… I thought—”

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, attempting to pull you into a hug, but when you flinch and freeze before taking a step back, another portion of his heart breaks. You inhale deeply yet shakily, cupping your hand over your mouth as if it stops the sobbing somehow.

“It’s okay,” you say, a sudden calm overcoming you and his eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “I, we’re not going to the same university, s-so we won’t see each other as much,” you continue, cursing inwardly at your shaky voice when you see Takao’s expression.

“I’ll—I’ll stay out of your way!” It comes out as a suggestion, but it’s like his heart is about to burst in the phantom hand’s tight grip.

“I promise not to get in the way of your relationship.” He swallows, scenes of not seeing you ever again playing in his mind, and his mouth feels dry and bitter.

“I didn’t want you to know in the first place. Just please… pretend you don’t know.” His stomach sinks at the request.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, but it feels as if you’re trying to convince yourself, “I’ll be okay.”

That’s when he snaps, pulling you into a hug so tight you’re encased by his whole body. The desperation in his hands as he cups the back of your head says he’s afraid that you’ll slip through him like sand. Pressed against his chest like this, you feel his rapid heartbeat and warmth, and the tears you have been trying so hard to supress makes their way down your cheek, seeping into the material of his shirt.

“No, don’t, please,” he tells you, exhaling shakily, “I was—if I let you go now you’ll run away, and I spent the whole night thinking about what would happen and I,” he swallows, “I really can’t imagine not having you with me.”

“Then what?” You cry, pushing at his chest in anger to put distance between you. “You want me to stick around and ‘stand by you’ while you’re with your girlfriend? I’ve done that for the past year!” Your voice breaks with the gradually rising volume, evidence of how hard you cried the night before. “I don’t want to go through that anymore. I’ve had enough.”

The room falls into silence as Takao looks at you while you quietly lower your eyes down to the floor. Thoughts run a thousand miles an hour in your head: if Takao only loves you as much as a friend does, there’s no point in having this conversation anymore—at least not until you move on. You must cut all ties with him, start anew, and fall in love again to be ready to face him.

“You hate me now, don’t you?” He asks.

Even the words sting his tongue when he says them.

This time you look him in the eyes as you give him your answer.

“I wish I could,” you whisper, “that would make things so much easier.”

And like a meteor colliding with Earth, there is realization and clarity, like the smoke is cleared out of his mind. When he pulls you by the arm and crashes his lips onto yours in a desperate kiss, it feels as if everything makes sense—it’s right, and he has never felt nothing as perfect as this before.

Your eyes widen at the foreign sensation. You’ve never expected this to happen, never in your wildest dreams—at least not after you’ve discarded them. You feel tears well again in your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past twenty-four hours, because how can you not cry while he’s kissing you and you’re already giving up on him? Any form of resistance you can come up with is futile: your push isn’t as strong and your fists are instead bringing him closer, the way you try to pull away but always responding when he chases you.

Inside, you figure that there is still a bit of hope that he would return your feelings.

Takao’s kiss is deep, passionate, desperate. It’s more emotional than your previous conversation combined, it tells you everything you need to know about him and him you: that he is certainly not willing to let you go or run away, and that a small part of you hasn’t lost your wish of being with him despite what you try to tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he says in between kisses, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, just give me the chance to.”

You gasp his name and he moans against your lips, kissing until the fire in his gut slowly turns into an ember, and by then he’s peppering slow kisses around your face in silent admiration and affection.

“What about your girlfriend?” You ask quietly. You really wish that you can skip this part, but he’s technically still in a relationship with someone else. Takao sighs, fishing out his phone and turning it on. The two of you stare until the blank screen lights up, and after a few seconds you can see notifications flooding in his phone, her name glaring in pixels. You spot snippets of the long sentences she sent to him, cuss words and spelling errors that turns out to be a continuation of what he received the night before.

“It’s clear that she’s upset of me ditching the party last night,” Takao scoffs a bit at that, “but who cares? She most likely found somebody else to grind with on the dance floor if she has the gall to diss me like that.”

“That’s horrible,” you say, eyebrows scrunching lightly with discomfort.

Takao places the device on the kitchen counter, paying absolutely no attention to it before he moves in to kiss you softly on the lips. When you pull away, it’s slow and unwilling, like you want it to last forever, but the need for air makes such wish impossible. His eyes are lidded, looking at you with an expression you can’t exactly decipher. You’ve never seen this look on his face before—something tells you that you’ll see more of this side of him in the future.

“I can’t believe it’s you all along,” he whispers, kissing you one more time. You reciprocate with equally, closing your eyes as you allow yourself to sink in the feeling of him wrapped around your senses. He smiles into the kiss.

“We’ve got a lot of talking to do.”


@nokay-stupid @yes-this-is-not-ok

Apparently saying you don’t to know someone is naked after only a few minutes, and standing up yourself makes you a bully! Who knew! I know I was a bit rude, but honestly I was avoiding him. I only responded because MAYYYBBBEE he wouldn’t suck (he did).

And also his lack of knowledge about how infertility is caused by a lot of different things is scary. Like he’s preaching to me that I could still get pregnant (I don’t my own kids anyway) is very unsettling, and they fact he’s fine telling a stranger he’s naked despite “his woman” being pregnant is really weird. 

(Note: TMI, but I know I’ll be asked, a doctor I went to 3 years ago said because of my periods being so irregular are heavy pregnancy would be extremely difficult for me, there is also a fear of anemia and only birth control has been able to help. On top of that uterine cancer is prevalent on both sides of my family. There was also a discussion about testing for PCOS, but she left being we could talk about it more.)


Finally fixed Shianni up more so she looks like my cousin and renamed Ghewen to Malaya (Mah-lie-yah) which is not only a region in the Phillippines but translates to freedom. (Lol I think. I’m still learning the language)

Also she now has the wedding dress that I hc that Adaia married her father in. Need to take more shots cause it is gorgeous.

Morphs are my own from a bunch of different texture packs. The dress however SM Noble Dresses. Highly recommended omg. 

Now for my wedding to get ruined, my life to get overturned, and kill some shems. (Someone please instruct me how to finish the rescue Shianni mod. I can murder Vaugn a thousand times and it still would be too merciful)

The Righteous Goldfish

Inside the tank, Righteous blew a few bubbles, and swam over to hide behind some green plastic fronds. His fins swirled like orange-red silk through the bright blue water.

Cas watched his goldfish for a few moments longer, before straightening up and going over to his desk. He had a paper due in two days’ time and he still had a couple hundred words to write, before editing started. He yawned, stretched, and settled into his chair. The early-morning sunlight breathed over the room in a cool sigh of soft yellow; it illuminated the mess of clothing on the floor, the tangled sheets on one bed, and the curving lump under the covers of the other.

“Mmmmmmmm,” said the lump, in a low, rough voice. Cas turned away from his laptop, a smile on his face.

“Morning, Dean,” he said quietly, getting to his feet and picking up the coffee at the corner of his desk. He placed it carefully on Dean’s bedside table, next to the empty water glass that he’d put there the night before.

The steam and scent of coffee had Dean rolling over slowly, squinting against the light, shirtless, hair mussed and sticking up in all directions. Cas swallowed and backed away, returning to the seat by his desk as Dean took a long gulp of hot coffee, and moaned.

“Ohhhhhh, that’s good,” he said. “How did this get here? Did Gabe stop by?”

“No,” Cas said, aligning the books on his desk so that they lay neatly stacked. “I… woke up early and thought I’d get myself a coffee. And then I thought you might want…”

“You hate mornings,” Dean interrupted absently, pulling his phone out from under his pillow and swiping the screen to unlock it. “What did I miss?”

“… nothing,” Cas said, shrugging it off. “How’s your head?”

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anonymous asked:

does it annoy you that only once it mentions that mulder is red green color blind? like? idk i choose to not accept that as canon. honestly dont think he would have made it in the fbi if he was color blind and its just odd? like does that mean he can't see scully's hair in all its glory? its weird and especially cause they only ever mentioned it once just to help an episodes story. sorry i dont accept it and i choose to ignore it!!!

Oh shit anon if we start pulling out receipts for every time they randomly made an addition of a seemingly major characteristic for a simple plot addition we’d all just give up on the show. How about when Mulder was deathly terrified of fire… for only one episode? Lmao. I think ur supposed to take what you want and take even that with a grain of salt when it comes to this show. It’s more about interpretation and inspiration to question things than it is about forming a cohesive story I’ve about decided at this point anyway