i know i know the quality is a bit off but it's the best i could do with my copy

Two weeks ago, when America’s inevitable next No. 1 song dropped like a meteor in the Great Lakes, a college friend posted on my Facebook wall begging for help. “How do we feel about the new Swifty single?” she implored. “Tell me how to feel!”

I don’t blame my pal for being confused. So is everyone about the song that launched a thousand takes. But am I any better equipped to help my friend sort her feelings about “Look What You Made Me Do”? Within days—hours—she could have had all the guidance she needed on how to feel about the year’s most overexamined three and a half minutes of music: pro, con, meh, judicious, disappointed, and, of course, Trump-obsessed.

Now that the decade’s least surprising chart-topper has fulfilled its destiny, crowning the Billboard Hot 100, does anyone want yet another pop nerd’s opinion? I mean: Why is this song No. 1? Because it’s from Taylor Swift, the one-woman Super Bowl of Pop.

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anonymous asked:

How do you make gifs?

There are so many kinds of gif making tutorials, but I still figured I could show you the way I do gif making tutorials, but I still figured I could show you the way I do it, since I do it in a different way than most.

I’ve combined my own preferences with other tutorials and things until I found this to work best for me.

Please give this a like/reblog if it helped you (:

This’ll be the result: 

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#241 - For tokyyo-narita

Filling the prompt “something about the reader being sick - like a flu or something and Van taking care of her!??” from @tokyyo-narita

Note: There are a fair few Nurse Van stories going around. So, I present something a little different. I would love some feedback on the format of this one.

The harsh lights of the emergency room made everything seem sicker than it already was. Conversations were all hushed so people could eavesdrop on triage; trauma is entertaining, after all. The soft moans of pain and silent tears rolling down cheeks were making you feel worse. Van couldn’t hold you like you wanted, needed, him to. The plastic armrests of the chairs prevented proper contact. All he could do was kiss the side of your head and rub your back.

Your illness wasn’t visible. Your emergency was internal. The risk seemed managed. Therefore, the wait time would be long. As the hours passed you tried to keep yourself occupied by memorising the cast of characters in the room. The child who was sure she had swallowed glass, but was diagnosed with a slight bruise to her tummy. A man asking everyone for cigarette, but each time he asked he used a different slang word for a smoke. It was unclear what his illness was, if any. There was a young guy injured on the worksite. You caught a glimpse of his injured arm; it was twisted, broken, and bone was visible. An elderly woman was coughing up liquid a disconcerting colour, and you were sure she was patient zero for the zombie apocalypse.

When your stomach growled with hunger pains, Van begged you again to let him go and get you something substantial to eat. When you said no again and again, he settled on vending machine sandwiches and overpriced bottled water. It tasted blend and did little to distract you.

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btswritertrash-deactivated20171  asked:

HEEEY BABES I HAVE ANOTHER!! OKAY! You are a trainee at bighit and you do a dance duet with him. Make is awkward and cute and slightly steamy (NO SMUT) yeaaaahhh (u dont have to make it steamy if u dont want to)

//to clarify, “him” is Jimin//

A/N: I changed it a bit… so the narrator isn’t necessarily a “trainee” and… you’ll see. Hope you don’t mind :’) and I may or may not have gotten carried away with backstory and details, resulting in this tome of a “one-shot” request

Word Count: 2.9k

Hot & Cold


Singing has always been your forte, of that much you’re sure. You sent in your BigHit audition with confidence in your vocal ability. Confidence, not to be confused with conceitedness. It took them a week to call you back, but needless to say, you were thrilled to be part of the company, even more thrilled when you found out your ability landed you the role of “leader” in a five member girl band.

Each of your new “best friends” are thoughtful, beautiful, funny, and varying, cohesive levels of shy to charismatic. All of you get along splendidly. BigHit, with their brilliant marketing schemes, peppers your debut with photoshoots, TV show appearances, and a few choice singles released at planned intervals.

The songs are, of course, written partially by at least one of you, the melodies ALL composed by the youngest girl, Hyemi, a prodigy with years of experience with at least seven instruments and the ability to play any tune after hearing it only once.

Honestly, you would nominate HER as the leader, if she weren’t so darn humble about her talents and frightened by the four year age gap.

Still, all of the girls agree that with your vocal range and the strength with which you can sing every note INSIDE of it, you are clearly the ONLY choice, not to mention the fact that you wrote all of the lyrics to what will be the title track of the group’s first mini album. But that’s beside the point.

BigHit splurges on your first music video.

The premise is fairly simple, but the production quality, at least from what you’ve seen in the script, is impressive. Your group has already memorized the lines, lyrics, and music cues. Now all that’s left is to master the choreography. It will be the first time your group has had to do anything beyond synchronized walking, and you’re anxious, but also excited to face this challenge.

Nothing significant happens for the first few weeks, save decent (not spectacular) album sales, until you stumble into a rather distraught Jeon Jungkook crawling around the dance studio.

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The Deadbeat Dads Society ~ Ao3~

Summary: Lucas’s absentee Dad comes to visit and he enlists Maya to pretend to be his girlfriend.

Pairing: Lucaya. Past Rucas

Warnings: reference to child neglect and abandonment. Unbeted. 


Maya was a founding member of the Deadbeat Dads Society.

After all it took a special kind of man to abandon his wife and toddler and beg for money when his daughter tracked him down, fifteen years later.  That type of thing was lifetime membership material.

Her club had been a lonely one until Lucas had joined their school. It had taken him a while to share the gory details of his parents’ divorce, but considering his father’s string of affairs with vastly younger women and that one humiliating, public sex scandal, Maya couldn’t really blame him for keeping mum.

For a few years, Lucas had split his time between both parents. He flew between Texas and New York often enough to exchange Christmas cards with the air hostesses. It was hard, but it might have worked if his Dad hadn’t been such a flake; the man forgot about birthdays and graduations and picking his son up from the airport. Despite what the songs said, loving someone didn’t solve problems, it didn’t make things simpler or easier.

Maya had been the one Lucas talked to when he’d finally decided to stop visiting Texas and in return, Maya had recruited him to help find her absentee dad a year later. Lucas had driven her to all the way to Ohio and later, he’d held her as she’d cried bitter, angry tears after her dad rejected her again.

Despite shared membership to their exclusive club, Maya and Lucas hadn’t talked for a while. Not since Lucas and Riley’s on-off- on relationship had ground to a definitive halt, eight months ago. For all Riley’s and Lucas’s attempts to remain friends, battle lines had been drawn, and Maya hadn’t been on Lucas’s side. Riley and Lucas were amicable enough now; Riley had stumbled into a relationship with Charlie Gardner and Lucas had dated a string of cheerleaders, but things were never the same as they had been. Their group never really recovered. Maya saw Lucas in the canteen and they exchanged pleasantries in the hallway but she didn’t think she could call herself his friend anymore.

It was a surprise then when Maya found Lucas waiting at her locker the Friday before Christmas.

“Maya, I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”


“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend, just for one day,” Lucas repeated, running a hand over his face. There were purple circles pressed like bruises under his eyes and his jaw was thinner, sharper than Maya remembered. “Look, I know this is weird –”

“Just a bit.”

“– but my dad’s coming to visit and I told him I have a girlfriend. He wants to meet her.”

A sharp reply curled across Maya’s tongue, but she bit it back at the last minute. Maya knew Lucas had stopped visiting Texas a few years ago, she could only guess that his dad visiting New York was a mending of bridges, of sorts.

Maya licked her lips carefully; they were peeling from the constant movement between the freezing outdoors and heated buildings.  “Why did you say you had a girlfriend?”

Lucas ran his hands through his hair, “I wasn’t lying when I told him and he’s got this new wife. She’s only a few years older than us. I dunno, I guess I thought if he saw her next to my girlfriend, he’d be embarrassed or something.” Lucas laughed, the sound like a dull bell, “Stupid, no?”

Maya shrugged. It was a stupid idea, but Lucas didn’t look like he needed to hear that right now.

“Why don’t you ask Missy, she’d love to be your girlfriend?” Maya heaved her bag over her shoulder. “Or Riley? I know you guys broke up, but she’d be great at this. Better than me.”

“No. Not Riley,” Lucas said quickly, wincing. “I guess I just remembered those times we helped each other out with Dad stuff. I haven’t told anyone else he’s coming… You know what, never mind. I’ll say my girlfriend’s sick or something.” He waved at Maya and turned around, “It was good talking to you, Maya.”

Maya watched him walk away, her eyes lingering on the broad slump of his shoulders and the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. Maya wasn’t Lucas’s friend anymore; he was her best friend’s ex. She didn’t owe him anything.  Maya cursed.

“Wait!” She called and ran to catch up to him. “You’re paying for dinner.”

Lucas sighed in relief and he smiled down at her, “Of course.”

“And don’t let my size fool you,” Maya continued, falling into step with him easily, “they once kicked me out of the All-you-can-eat-crab-house.”

“You always were a menace at buffets.”

Maya shrugged philosophically, “It’s one of my many endearing qualities.”


Maya was only half dressed when Lucas arrived.

He knocked on her front door and Maya answered it, feeling a strange longing for the days Lucas would just appear outside her window with a bag of fast food and a smile.

“Come on in, I’m nearly finished.” Maya gestured to the small living room vaguely, “make yourself at home.”

“Is your mom in?” Lucas asked, sitting primly on the edge of the couch.

“No,” Maya said, wandering back into her bedroom, “She’s working night shifts again, trying to get more money for Christmas.”

“Oh, right.” Lucas mumbled and Maya felt herself bristle at his awkwardness.

Lucas’s family was stinking rich and for all his good qualities, he sometimes got weird when Maya reminded him that her family most definitely wasn’t. There had been a time when he’d tried to sneakily buy things for her; books and art supplies she had wanted, but couldn’t afford, had appeared in her locker or ‘he’d found them on offer’. Maya had been furious, humiliated, when she’d realised what he’d been doing.

Tugging a dress over her head, Maya turned to look at herself in the mirror. A knot had worked its way between her eyebrows and she rubbed at her forehead distractedly. Finally, Maya took a deep breath and made herself go back into the living room.

“I’m ready.”

Lucas glanced up at the sound of her voice. His mouth dropped a little, eyes wide. “You, er, you look nice.” He stuttered.

Maya rolled her eyes, “With compliments like that my head will soon be too big to fit through the doorway.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and gestured towards the door, “coming?”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Lucas stumbled after her. For an athlete, he was awful clumsy.

“You do look really pretty.”  Lucas tried again as they made their way downstairs.

“Better.” Maya said approvingly.

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I Miss You ( A Harry One Shot )

I just want to say that this is my first piece of fanfiction I’ve written. ever. I had an idea (a very cliche idea) and just went with it so if this is terrible, I’m so sorry. It’s short but yeah, enjoy?


My laptop was charged, open and ready when the chime alerting me of a Skype call sounded through the speakers. I peered at the screen, my heart beating a little faster against my chest as soon as I saw the name ‘Harry’ appear. As I got comfortable on my bed, laptop resting on my white duvet, I leaned back against the headboard and hit the accept button. 

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