i love that little irish man

what she says: i’m fine

what she means: 

SHE PLAYED THE FIDDLE IN AN IRISH BAND BUT SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH AN ENGLISH MAN KISSED HER ON THE NECK AND THEN I TOOK HER BY THE HAND AND SAID BABY I JUST WANNA DANCE I MET HER ON GRAFTON STREET RIGHT OUTSIDE OF THE BAR SHE SHARED A CIGARETTE WITH ME WHILE HER BROTHER PLAYED THE GUITAR SHE ASKED ME WHAT DOES IT MEAN THE GAELIC INK ON YOUR ARM? I TOLD SAID IT WAS ONE OF MY FRIEND’S SONGS DO YOU WANNA DRINK ON? SHE TOOK JAMIE AS A CHASER JACK FOR THE FUN SHE GOT ARTHUR ON THE TABLE WITH JOHNNY RIDING AS SHOT GUN CHATTED SOME MORE ONE MORE DRINK AT THE BAR THEN PUT VAN ON THE JUKEBOX, GOT UP TO DANCE YOU KNOW SHE PLAYED THE FIDDLE IN AN IRISH BAND BUT SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH AN ENGLISH MAN KISSED HER ON THE NECK AND THEN I TOOK HER BY THE HAND AND SAID BABY I JUST WANNA DANCE WITH MY PRETTY LITTLE GALWAY GIRL YOU’RE MY PRETTY LITTLE GALWAY GIRL YOU KNOW SHE BEAT ME AT DARTS AND THEN SHE BEAT ME AT POOL AND THEN SHE KISSED ME LIKE THERE WAS NOBODY ELSE IN THE ROOM AS LAST ORDERS WERE CALLED WAS WHEN SHE STOOD ON THE STOOL AFTER DANCING TO KALEIGH SINGING TO TRAD TUNES I NEVER HEAR CARRICKFERGUS EVER SUNG SO SWEET ACAPELLA IN THE BAR USING HER FEET FOR A BEAT OH I COULD HAVE THAT VOICE PLAYING ON REPEAT FOR A WEEK AND IN THIS PACKED OUT ROOM SWEAR SHE WAS SINGING TO ME SHE PLAYED THE FIDDLE IN AN IRISH BAND BUT SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH AN ENGLISH MAN KISSED HER ON THE NECK AND THEN I TOOK HER BY THE HAND SAID BABY I JUST WANNA DANCE MY PRETTY LITTLE GALWAY GIRL MY MY MY MY MY MY MY GALWAY GIRL MY MY MY MY MY MY MY GALWAY GIRL MY MY MY MY MY MY MY GALWAY GIRL NOW WE’VE OUTSTAYED OUR WELCOME AND IT’S CLOSING TIME I WAS HOLDING HER HAND HER HAND WAS HOLDING MINE OUR COATS BOTH SMELL OF SMOKE, WHISKY, AND WINE AS WE FILL UP OUR LUNGS WITH THE COLD AIR OF THE NIGHT I WALKED HER HOME THEN SHE TOOK ME INSIDE FINISH SOME DORITOS AND ANOTHER BOTTLE OF WINE I SWEAR I’M GOING TO PUT YOU IN A SONG THAT I WRITE ABOUT A GALWAY GIRL AND A PERFECT NIGHT SHE PLAYED THE FIDDLE IN AN IRISH BAND BUT SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH AN ENGLISH MAN KISSED HER ON THE NECK AND THEN I TOOK HER BY THE HAND SAID BABY I JUST WANT TO DANCE Y PRETTY LITTLE GALWAY GIRL MY MY MY MY MY MY MY GALWAY GIRL MY MY MY MY MY MY MY GALWAY GIRL MY MY MY MY MY MY MY GALWAY GIRL

You found me - Moriarty x reader

Originally posted by thisiswhoiamlikemeornot

AN: Requested by @ohyesmarvel, ly darlin! I hope you like it, idk if it’s okay or not, if you don’t I’ll write something else for ya, love. 

Summary: He’s alive?!

Word count: 1,333

Warnings: A little depressing at the beginning, warning to those who may get triggered by the talk of suicide/death. Happier ending. Pretty fluffy. Some strong language.

After Jim Moriarty’s death, you’re life changed completely. You couldn’t live in the flat anymore because it reminded you too much of him. You were lucky enough to never be identified as Jim Moriarty’s flatmate so when you left you were free to do you pleased.

You bought a smaller flat with some emergency money that Moriarty always had at hand for you whenever you needed it, and you started over. 

It was hard. 

At first it was so hard you didn’t know if you could do it. You didn’t know if life was worth it if Jim Moriarty wasn’t in it with you. He always kept you on your toes, he made life exciting, he made it scary, he made it unpredictable and he made it worth a thousand life times. 

You knew this all sounded so cheesy, so cliché, and so sweet but it was far from it. Jim was far from it. 

Keep reading

I’m a terrible man for chocolate. Part of the fun of being in a company is that you develop all these little nightly rituals with other actors. You don’t really get that in the movies. And then I have my chocolate regime. But that’s just for me.
— 

Andrew Scott (Irish Times 21/4/2017)

Just when you think you can’t love him more, he goes and does this 💓

Shit I forgot about in the Raven Boys

 I’m doing a re-read of The Raven Cycle because the first time around I read them so fast I apparently don’t remember shite about what happened. Or my memory is just that bad; possibly both. So just little things that were pointed out to me by my brain during my re-read. Will do for the others too eventually when I feel like it. 

  • Aglionby has a hunting club. Hound dogs, horses and all.  Fucking horses. Just how pretentious can one all boys boarding school get like smh 
  • The book takes place in April. I don’t know why I just assumed it was like June or something. I need to pay attention to dates more
  • Blue wears fingerless gloves that she knitted. God, no wonder Henry likes her so much, like that look is Madonna af 
  • Gansey has a frappuccino-stained notebook in his backseat. You know what that meanssss 
    • He’s also messy as fuck. Like god damn son do you have no shame?
  • Adam and Ronan dragged each other on dollys with Ronan’s BMW like those kids do give and shits about their safety 
  • Adam asks if he’s invited when they go somewhere. Someone protect this child 
  • When the Pig started up again, the Stevie Nicks song Gansey describes is called Edge of Seventeen. Perfect. 
  • Adam has shitty handwriting! 
  • 300 Fox Way’s phone number is often mistaken for a gentleman escort company, like whatt 
  • Declan is a senior at Aglionby. Does that make him and Ronan like Irish twins or something? I need answers 

Keep reading

Andre Burakovsky - Come Make Cookies

anon request: hey! can you write one where the reader is home alone waiting for andre burakovsky to come home and she’s playing music through a speaker and she’s dancing and singing along to the songs and he walks in on her and is in shock but then joins in ? thanks so much!

i am so sorry for the wait school takes up alot of my time but ill try to get as many as i can in on the weekend!! anyway i hope you enjoy!!

requests are open:))

Originally posted by thornescratch

who doesn’t love playful andre?


andre was away on a two week away game trip. i was counting down the days till he got home. the apartment without andre was lonely. i was usually greeted by a big hug when i got home but for the past two weeks i came home to nothing.

i just got back from my job which is interning at the hospital and i was exhausted but it was that time of the month. i was craving my moms recipe for chocolate chip cookies and when a girl on her period wants something she gets it.

since andre wasnt home this week and he was usually the one to make the food while im in pain i pulled through because today wasnt so bad. i decided to make the cookies myself.

i took of the light blue scrubs i had worn to work and changed into a pair of cozy socks that went to above my knees and one of andres button downs that went to mid thigh due to his height and my shortness.

i hooked my phone up to the stereo in our home and began playing ed sheerans new album. i was dancing around the kitchen grabbing ingredients for the cookies.

i was singing galway girl and doing the worst irish dancing anyone could ever see while laughing to myself like an idiot. when i looked up and saw andre standing in the door way with the most shocked expression on his face.

i stopped in my tracks and just looked at him. he dropped his bag from his hand, when the chorus came on he ran over to me and grabbed my hands and began singing and dancing with me.

“you know she played the fiddle in an irish band but she fell in love with and english man, kissed her on the neck and then i took her by the hand said baby i just want to dance” we both sung the lines while dancing around our kitchen like idiots laughing.

andre looked me in the eyes, his were scrunched a bit at the side due to the big smile on his face but i could only imagine i looked the same.

“with my pretty little galway girl” he laughed spinning me around, his thick accent was affecting his pronunciation of words.

i laughed out loud at him and he laughed with me, we both had the biggest and goofiest smiles on our faces. it was almost as if the stars didnt even need to be out tonight, andres smile was big enough to light up a dark sky.

“why are you home early baby?” i smiled wrapping my arms around his neck. he smiled down at me placing a small kiss on my forehead, “the trip was canceled after a week for some reason” he shrugged.

“im just happy i get to spend more time with you” he picked me up and spun me around which caused a loud laugh to erupt from me.

“i missed you andre” i smiled as he held me in the air for a moment before placing me gracefully on the ground. i grabbed him hands dragging him to where i was making cookies, the music still blaring in the background.

“come make cookies with me!” i clapped laughing once we got to the table. he shook his head smiling then spoke, “just let me get out of this suit” and with that he jogged into our room.

a few minutes later he game out with a washington hat on, black sweatpants and a grey hoodie. i looked him up and down before shaking my head no.

“wha-whats wrong with this, i thought it looked nice actually” he said looking down at his outfit confused. i pretended to think for a moment then i looked up at him.

“too much material” i spoke quietly, slowly pulling his shirt from the bottom and soon over his head, knocking his hat off. this left his abs and chest exposed i could head his breath hitch in his throat when i put my hand son his stomach, they made there way up to his shoulders and back down to his hands.

“thats better” i smiled grabbing his hand and pulling him to where all of the ingredients were. the music was playing in the background and i was quietly working with andre behind me looking over my shoulder amazed.

“there was one reason i wanted you to take off your shirt” i looked behind me at andre. he looked confused and then waited for me to keep going. “i didnt want to get it dirty” i said quietly.

“get it dirt-” before andre could finish his confused question i grabbed a handful of flour and threw it at his chest letting out a loud laugh. he looked at me with his mouth wide open. 

“you are so dead” he laughed chasing after me while a loud laugh escaped my mouth and he chased me around with ed sheeran playing in the background. it may have been crazy but i like crazy. 

Here's another fic to soothe you heathens

This time it’s gonna be….. A…….. Road trip/ beach day AU. Enjoy :))))) gonna be some trimberly and cranscott.
_______________________________________________________________________

“Hey. Babe. Wake up.” A voice roused Trini from her peaceful sleep.

“Whaaatttt.” She whined from her current position in her blanket burrito. Trini heard a giggle come from the darkness.

“Today’s the day yellow.” Kim whispered through the dark room.

“What day?” Trini asked lazily.

“Our road trip silly. Now get up the boys are waiting for us at Jason’s place.” Kim reminded her.

Trini begrudgingly got up from her warm bed. She had totally forgotten about today. They had planned this trip for months, talking about where they’d want to go and what they wanted to see. Of course, they had all decided on going to the beach. Trini hated the beach, the sun, the sand, the overpopulated beaches. It was horrible.

Of course, after she had gone with Kim to shop for swim suits she immediately changed her mind. ( :))))))) )

“Come on sleepy head it’s almost 7.” Kim tossed a t-shirt at Trini.

“Ughhhhhh. Why do we have to get up so early.” Trini whined. Kim rolled her eyes.

“Because it’s a five hour drive there and back.” Kim singsonged. “Now get dressed we still have to get snacks.”

“Kiiimmmm.” Trini bellyached.

“Triniiiii.” Kim smiled.

When Trini was finally dressed Kim slipped on her backpack and pulled Trini down stairs and into the garage to get her car. Kim opened up the doors to her pink, 2015 jeep explorer. Trini constantly teased her about it, calling it the ‘Barbie mobile’. Kimberly stirred the engine to life and turned on the radio. Her ears were invaded with “cool for the summer” by Demi Lovatto. As soon as Trini’s head hit the headrest she was out again. Kim leaned over to Trini’s side and took the opportunity to snap a picture of them on her Polaroid camera. When it developed Kimberly took a sharpie and wrote 'trimberly beach trip 2017 ❤️’.
_______________________________________________________________________

“HEY LOSERS GET IN WE’RE GOING SHOPPING!” Kim yelled at them from her car.

The boys looked sleepy but excited. Billy was wearing one of Jason’s old football jerseys that was a little big on him, and a pair of blue swim trunks. Jason wore a 'Rolling Stones’ muscle t and some red swim trunks. Zack was wearing a simple black shirt and matching swim shorts. Trini wore a ’ Wonder Woman’ muscle t that outlined her abs very nicely, and a pair of yellow short shorts. As for Kim she was sporting a pink Supergirl shirt and a pair of short shorts.

As Kimberly pulled away from Jason’s drive way '22’ by Taylor swift started playing. Kim looked in her rearview mirror to see Billy and Jason had fallen asleep with Billy’s head on Jason’s chest pressed up against the car door. Zack on the other hand looked wide awake and ready to party.
_______________________________________________________________________

Kim pulled into the parking lot of the nearest Walmart and turned around to see Billy and Jason were awake.

“Morning lovebirds.” She teased.

Billy’s face blushed as dark as Jason’s suit.

“I could say the same thing to you Mrs’ trimberly beach trip 2017’” Zack teased her as he held up the picture of Kim and Trini.

“Shut up and go get the snacks Zack.” Trini mumbled.

The boys got out to go get ice and other essentials for the trip as Kim and Trini stayed in the car.

Over the radio the song changed to 'Shower’ by Becky G. Kid started to sing along to herself.

“ You light me up inside like the Fourth of July. Whenever your around I always seem to smile.” Kim sang

“Well I hope your singing about me princess.” Trini finally spoke.

Kim blushed and shook her head at her girlfriends antics.
_______________________________________________________________________

-inside the store-

“Babe do you like original or barbecue flavored?” Jason asked his boyfriend.

“Original please. The barbecue flavored ones are kind of gross.” Billy scrunched his nose at the memory of the time his dad tried to get him to eat flavored chips.

“Hey guys check this out.” Zack called out as he held up a bikini of a hanger.

“Does this make me look fat.” Zack joked.

Billy and Jason groaned at there friends terrible joke.
_______________________________________________________________________

“Mom tell Zack to stop kicking my seat.” Trini glared at the black ranger.

“Mom tell Trini to pull her seat forward so I actually have some leg room.” Zack retorted.

“Zack quit annoying Trini. Trini scoot up a little please. And quit calling me mom.” Jason answered nonchalantly without looking up from his phone.

“Yes mom.” They both answered while snickering.

“EVERYONE SHUT UP ITS ED SHEERAN!” Kim screamed as 'Galway girl’ played.

“SHE PLAYED THE FIDDLE IN AN IRISH BAND BUT SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH AN ENGLISH MAN. KISSED HER ON THE NECK AND THEN I TOOK HER BY THE HAND.” The group sang out.

Oh yeah. Today was going to be a good day.
_______________________________________________________________________

END. unless you guys want me to continue this. Message me with prompts or if you guys want me to continue.

“We Have Lost America to the Irish!” – How Steve Rogers is completely, 100%, to the bone, an Irishman

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I am going to rant on Steve Rogers and Irish identity :)

I’ve seen more stuff on Steve speaking Irish Gaelic as his first language than on his actual cultural heritage that would have shaped the kind of person he is, so I wanted to fill in the void a bit.

There’s lots of discussion as to why Steve is the way he is, and the fact that he’s an Irishman never gets any credit, even though most major elements of his character can be seen in the Irish character.  This is from an MCU perspective, because I don’t have the funds for comics :(

Before we get started, disclaimer: I am nearly 80% Irish, had a nana that loved doing research into her family’s heritage so my Irish roots are mush stronger than the average Irish American, and still have family living there.  I’m not trying to offend anyone.  I am doing this for perspective on what one of my favorite characters probably experienced, which probably played a huge role in shaping his view on the world.

The Irish are prone to laugh off people making jokes about us, because we have a sense of humor and can see ourselves for what we are.   We’re very self-depreciating.

Who else is self-depreciating?  Steve.

Steven Grant Rogers is the archetypical Irishman.  He’s feisty, rebellious.  He’s stubborn, argumentative, has a lightning-fast retort always at the tip of his tongue.  Steve is dedicated to liberty and justice, not because he’s an American, but because he’s Irish.

There is not an ounce of doubt in my mind that, even without proper canonical conformation, Steve is the Irish Catholic son of two Irish immigrants.  (Yes, his dog tags said “P”, but either that’s an oversight of the prop department or Steve not seeing a point in making a fuss over something like religion.  I don’t have many good Catholic characters that I know well, so please don’t take Catholic Steve from me.)

His view on women didn’t come from nowhere.  Maybe he has some internalized misogyny, all of us do, but he tries to move past what little he does have.  He’s got the Irish perspective on gender roles: men, while the breadwinners and heads of house, were the ones who tore families apart, with excess drinking and brawling.  Women ran the house and held the family together in the face of the men’s failings.  I’m not saying that’s the right way families should be, but at the heart, Steve knows how much stronger women are than me.

Hell, if you look at the list of his medical problems, most if not all are fairly common ailments among the Irish.  Heart problems, asthma, scoliosis, everything I’ve seen listed as a problem for him is something I can connect to a close relative (I read the list off to my mother, and every answer was a resounding “Yes!”)  

As for all the fevers he contracted, well, a poverty-stricken widowed immigrant would have had a difficult time putting food on the table, much less procuring medicine.  Sarah probably accelerated her own death by giving her food to Steve.  Sarah was either the daughter or granddaughter of people who survived An Gorta Mor, so she understood hunger.  Steve grew up knowing just how close starvation and sickness are.  Yet you don’t see him locking himself away.  He’s lonely, yes, but never bored.

Life isn’t lived on a time table.  Life is about making the best of what you have, and making good memories.  Yes, a lot of Steve’s daring comes from his depression, but I think it’s a way of trying to regain that zest for life.  Steve’s trying to make his life worthwhile, worth living, and maybe the only way he feels alive anymore is with the adrenaline rush.

So yeah, Steve loves adrenalin, he loves his job in certain ways.  How many Irish people are cops, firefighters, and soldiers?  They have an urgency to life, but something else as well: a passion for justice.

The love of the law for the Irish goes back to the Brehon Laws, the codes of societal conduct set up in ancient Ireland.  They’re endlessly fascinating, and funny at times, but they’re fair.  Irish society is built to kindness and compassion, but are harsh but fair on those who don’t respect society.  And any punishment is intended to teach the wrongdoer their fault, and insure they didn’t do it again.  The distinction between justice and the law is now blurred, but the respect for the law has not wavered, and anyway, the Irish have no qualms about not following an unjust law.  (“Yessir”, than goes and does what he thinks is right?)

A large part of Irish identity is the longing for freedom, the ability to be independent of oppressors.  The Irish national anthem, “A Soldier’s Song”, has a line in the chorus that reads: “Sworn to be free, no more our ancient sireland shall shelter the despot or the slave.”

The Irish are fighters, not killers.  We love to fight, but it’s a natural urge.  While areas while high Irish demographics would have high numbers of fights, murder was a rare occurrence.  “I don’t want to kill anyone.  I don’t like bullies.”  Steve understands the need to fight for what he believes in, but killing isn’t a natural solution.  The Irish fight out their differences,  then move on.  A person being able to keep his head up, even during a beating, was a guy that was considered worthwhile to the Irish.  But America doesn’t exactly have those same values.

And as for the Irish’s place in America?  It didn’t start with An Gorta Mor.  British politicians blamed Irishmen for inciting the American Colonies to rebel, one even claiming “We’ve lost America to the Irish!”  When the famine hit, suddenly there was an excess of unskilled labor, and immigrant men were put to building projects.  Skyscrapers, railroads, the Brooklyn Bridge, all were built primarily with Irish hands, and on Irish bones.   As soon as they emigrated, the Irish were just as willing to die for America as Ireland.

While maybe they might have griped a bit, never would any Irish person ever complain about hard work like that.  They had escaped from a homeland that, though beloved, was a place of suffering, hardship, and oppression.  Even terrible conditions were preferable from the past horrors they had experienced.

Steve refuses to seek out help in the 21st Century.  Sure, he complains a bit about Fury, but the only reason he heads to the VA is to see Sam.  Steve appreciates what care they give other vets, but never would he consider seeking help for himself.  Steve has seen people who are worse off than him.  Steve is the type to refuse to properly bind a sprained ankle, because someone might have a broken ankle, and they should be helped first.

I think it also connects to the overly-generous and self-sacrificing nature that is instilled into every native Irish person from birth.  It was law in Ancient Ireland that you should extend hospitality to any guest or friend who asked it of you.  There were no inns; you simply stopped by the next house and they would give you their best.  

The greatest thing Jesus taught according to Irish tradition, was “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

“To lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you”, anyone?

Now, the Irish love to argue, but it’s never pointless, or without merit.  The Irish are famed for their wit, their extraordinarily perceptive, cutting wit.  I could preach forever on the differences between Tony Stark: Man vs. Persona, but what little interaction they have had, and with the persona in full-effect, Steve still manages to see the chinks in Tony’s mental armor.  Yes, they both are terrible to each other, but the reason that scene is so heartbreaking is that it’s true, in a sense, but they both can see it in themselves.

But when the engine is blown and Tony sets off to fix it, what does Steve do?  He does his best to help.  Even though he has doubts about Tony’s moral character, he follows him without a second thought.  Why?  Despite any personal issue you might have with another person, if someone is in need of help, you help.  

And what happens when the person is a friend?  Friends are an extend part of an Irish family.  Being surrounded by good friends was the mark of a successful life and a good man.  The Irish are “gentle in friendship, fierce in battle”.  We’ll fight, but it’s for what matters most.

And what is most important to an Irish person?  Above freedom, above justice, above compassion?

Home.

Not a building.  A family, friends that are practically family.  A place where you are accepted, belong, and are loved.

“Isn’t that why we fight?  So we can go home?”

For Tony, it’s a place.  For Steve, it’s a social construct.

I love the idea of Steve speaking Gaelic, but you know what I love more?  


• Sarah having to leave her family behind so she could make a better life for herself
• Sarah crying after seeing Fastnet Rock disappear (the last piece of Ireland emigrants ever saw), then turning and focusing on the American flag
• Sarah and Joseph bonding over never seeing their mothers again
• Sarah being born Sorcha, and electing to change her name to the English equivalent so she could get a job
• Joseph griping about “just getting off the boat and turning right around”, but signing up for service in WWI anyway
• Sarah making sure her son had a good American name, but still calling him Saoirse, because he was her child of freedom
• Sarah regaling her son with her stories of her childhood spent in the country, and teasing her city-boy son that he would never survive on a farm
• Sarah crying over the letter her cousin sent her telling her that her mother died because they couldn’t afford medicine
• Sarah taking Steve to church to pray for the newly-formed Irish Free State
• Sarah teaching her son that he can be both Irish and American
• Steve getting into his first fight because someone called him Mick
• Steve getting into fights anytime anyone calls him or his mother Mick
• Steve getting into fights anytime calls anyone a derogatory term for their race
• Steve hating bullies because people can’t control what they are or where they come from
• Steve never even blinking at the idea of working with a woman, because men wreaked families while women kept the together
• Steve never even blinking at the idea of working with a black man, because he knows what it’s like to be considered incapable because of your parents
• Steve making sure Hydra soldiers got medical treatment, if he could
• Steve finding that large family that he always wanted but never had
• Captain America being proud of the fact that he’s an immigrant story, and wanting to be an inspiration for others who see America as a place to be free and have a home after living in hardship
• Steve singing his child to sleep with Irish folk songs, because that’s what his mother sang to him

tag meem

rules: answer 20 questions and tag 20 people you would like to get to know better

tagged by the dude. the man. the bro. @molsno

name: jenna

nicknames: jae, snoo, jennhole

zodiac: libra

height: 5′5″, maybe 5′6″?

orientation: i know i like girls/feminine people, i don’t know if i like guys tho. maybe. we will see

nationality: my mother is a white irish fuck, and my father is english/native. i’m pretty sure he’s mi’kmaq

favorite fruit: clementines. also raspberries. and grapes. i love fruit

favorite season: i love every season for the first little while when it starts

favorite manga: oyasumi punpun, SO GOOD. also i’m currently reading kangoku gakuen, it’s hilarious and the art style is lovely

favorite flower: ??? i dunno, i’m more of a cactus person. i am a cactus person. i am full of thorns and you might bleed if you touch me. i am green

favorite scent: don’t attack me like this

favorite color: peach, or light red, which is, not pink,

favorite animal: opossum :v

coffee, tea, or hot cocoa: hot chocolate tastes best. coffee if i want to seem like an adult. fuck tea

average hours of sleep: usually around six, sometimes it’s one if i’m staying up with my friends, and 12 hours on weekends

cat or dog: i!!! love!!!!!! both!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

favorite fictional character: right now it’s probably sombra. oh and hana midorikawa

number of blankets you sleep with: 2 only cause i can’t afford a GOT DAN DUVET

dream trip: go and meet my super movie epic fun time bros, who live in ontario and in scotland. maybe we can meet up in. latvia

blog created: uhhh i dunno, maybe 2014

top 3 songs on your playlist atm: goldlink - same clothes as yesterday, gorillaz - ascension, and childish gambino - L.E.S

that’s a lot of peepo to tag, do this if you want i gues z zzz

@imsleepingincars @fartiest @honeypilot @hetero-clite @jarring @lapinaijin @zumeanie @zkolopender @vilegirl @noonstarshine @malandromachina @japes-jests-and-regret @sapphicdianaprince @satyavaswani420 @spinning-beats @mimiscary @jeehans @the-crone @sobstorys @babygurt

i-am-avacado  asked:

Oooo ur doin writin? Could i have some jelix maybs? Where fel/ix wants ja/ck to eat smth gross?

( Idk if you meant smut or not,,so i didnt write it…
Ah, yes, i dont know how to finish short stuff, wowie this sucks,,I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE NON SMUT JFC SORRY THIS IS SO BAD WHATS HAPPENING)

“Ok, close it,”

Jack scrunched his eyebrows as he closed his mouth around a slimy texture, feeling it with his tongue instead of his eyes as he had them covered. Immediately, an overwhelming rotting fishy taste spread around his mouth, and he gagged, spitting it out immediately, opening his eyes to look at the one who fed him.

“Oh, fucksake!” Jack said, coughing and wiping his tongue. The swede next to him burst into raucous laughter, slapping the restraunt table as he watched Jack’s face scrunch up in disgust.

“What the hell *was* that?!” Jack huffed, still spitting the taste out of his mouth. “It tasted like rubbery fish ass!”

“Its some weird vegan stuff,” Felix snickered, picking up a jar of what looked like some weird, dark beige plant intestine.

“Oh my fuck, that’s terrible,” Jack coughed, breathing through his mouth with his tongue sticking out. “Ugh, why the hell did you give me that..”

“For my own sadistic entertainment,” Felix smiled innocently at the irish man, framing his face with his palms gently.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Jack swallowed, grimacing as the aftertaste hit him. “Whoever the fuck made that needs to shove a foot up their ass.”

Felix nodded, making a face as well as he closed the lid to the vegan mystery meat.

“Alright, c'mon, close your eyes again,” Felix smirked slyly, reaching toward his stash of foods on his side of the table.

Jack rolled his eyes with a sigh, doing as he was told. A bit of rustling made him uneasy, remembering the taste at the back of his tongue again and swallowing with a frown.

“Open,” He heard the swedish man order, and did so without hesitation.

What a mistake that was.

Before he even tasted it, the smell hit his nose and Jack nearly gagged again, covering his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut as he cincentrated on not vomiting.

“Ooohh my god, that smells fucking horrible,” The green haired man mumbled into his hand, as Felix began giggling again.

“Oh, come on, Jack,” Felix snickered, obviously enjoying torturing his friend. “Stop being such a puss,”

“Jesus, fuckin’ hell, that’s bad..” Jack swallowed the nauseous feeling in his belly, and uncovered his hand, opening his mouth again, this time very hesitantly.

“I swear to god, if you make me throw up,” Jack muttered angrily.

“Relaaax,” His boyfriend replied, though nothing about his tone seened comforting. “This one isn’t so bad,”

Suddenly, this next mystery food was on Jack’s tongue, and the irish man closed his mouth, chewing contemplativly as the dull flavor soaked into his mouth.

“OH MY GOD,” Jack spit it out a few seconds later, a foul taste hitting his throat like a train. “OH THAT’S THE FUCKIN’ WORST, ” he spat again, his stomach close to heaving.

“Oh my god, don’t throw up on me, please,” Fe chuckled nervously, shifting a little bit away for aafe measures.

“I should do it, right fuckin on you, you asshole,” Jack coughed, groaning in agony as the taste only got worse with air. “I hate youuuuu,”

“I love you, toooo,”

Do you know what I think of history? …for a while I thought history was something that bitter old men wrote. But Jack loved history so… no one’ll ever know everything about Jack. But…history made Jack what he was…this lonely, little sick boy…scarlet fever…this little boy sick so much of the time, reading in bed, reading history…reading the Knights of the Round Table…and he just liked that last song. Then I thought, for Jack history was full of heroes. And if it made him this way, if it made him see the heroes, maybe other little boys will see. Men are such a combination of good and bad…he was such a simple man. But he was so complex, too. Jack had this hero idea of history, the idealistic view, but then he had that other side, the pragmatic side…his friends were all his old friends; he loved his Irish Mafia.” - Jacqueline Kennedy

Finn The Demon

Paring: Finn X reader
Warning: Violence
Rating: Explicit
Length: 2.3k words

Everywhere I went I felt something followed. Work, school, home- especially home. I convinced myself that it was something I had forgotten to deal with or an impending bill. Something just out of grasp that gave me an uneasy feeling.

Whenever I felt it close by; as I was dosing off, or riding the bus distracted by a book, or studying in the near dark, a heat came over me. A shivering heat. Something akin to the feelings that grew in my belly during seduction. I chalked it up to my bridled sex drive.

I had been having regular encounters with a man that had recently moved, and hadn’t found a replacement. When I needed release, I found it myself. Maybe what I needed was a man between my legs, maybe then these feelings would go away.

Flirting with my attractive neighbor was a regular habit, perhaps he would do.

But when I approached him at the mailbox, he quickly made an excuse and left. It was as if he was frightened. I didn’t think much of it until that night, as I was drifting off.

“What were you trying to do, y/n?” I sat straight up in bed. It was him. It was the presence. And he had just said my name.

“Who’s there?” My voice was a shadow of itself. Not my speaking voice at all, but I was so terrified I couldn’t help it.

“What did you want with that man? Be honest. Honesty shall be rewarded.” He implied that lies would be punished. So… scared of what he would do to me; so petrified by his nearness; I told the truth.

“I wanted him to- to have sex with me,” I said, deeply unsure of my answer. That wasn’t what I had wanted him to do. “I wanted h-him to fuck me.” I shook as the truer answer came out.

“That’s right,” he told me. I was still buried under his implied threat. I shook harder. “Do you know why I’m here?” He asked, and finally I could see an outline of him.

He was a demon. Even his shadow gave him away as such.

“No,” I wheezed. Tears slid down my cheeks, and I began muttering ‘please don’t hurt me’ over and over.

“Don’t cry, love.” His words went from the deep, rattling accent to a very human one. I dared to look up. There was a man at the foot of my bed. A handsome one in a black suit, with a black shirt, and an Irish accent.

He put a knee on the mattress and I scooted away, burying my face in my arms held around my knees.

“I haven’t hurt you yet, and I won’t. As long as you’re a good girl… I’ll be a good demon.” His words made me shiver. He had to know I was a kinky little deviant after spending so much time around me. He knew what to say to turn me on. “I know how you like your men, sweetie.” He adjusted his tie as he spoke. “You don’t like gentlemen who know /when not/ to be gentle. You like the brutes that know /when to be/ gentle. The monsters with manners.” He smirked. “That’s what I am.”

“What do you want?” I whispered, absolutely stunned at how accurate he was. Looking up again, I was stunned by his looks.

“I told you what I want,” he said lightly, loosening the black tie. My throat went dry. His blue eyes shone as he smiled. It was a dazzling smile. “I want you to be a good girl for me. Come take this tie off.”

I took just a second to get to my knees and crawl to him. Then I took a shivering hand and reached for the tie. I was scared to touch him. Would he feel scaly? Would he be hot to the touch? Would he burn me?

“Trust me,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. I looked into his eyes and didn’t know what I saw there. He was unreadable, guarded, and dangerous. He wasn’t kidding about being a monster.

I took a deep breath and my fingers brushed the tie. It was black silk and slid under my touch like air.

Having undone the double Oxford knot, I pulled it from around his neck. Then, faster than humanly possible, it was around my neck.

“Up,” he commanded, pulling on the tie like a leash. I gasped for air as he basically dragged me off the bed.

I got to my feet before I passed out, and as I did he embraced me loosely.

“I think I’d prefer you naked,” he said lightly.

I quickly went to strip, but found my clothes were already gone. My eyes flicked to his and he smiled.

“What’s your name?” I asked, thinking I knew what it was now. Bálor.

“I can’t tell you that,” he shook his head in disapproval. “Call me Finn.”

“Finn?” I asked. It was such a simple name.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, pulling the tie tighter around my neck.

“I like it! I like it,” I said emphatically, and he loosened his grip on the tie. He smiled at me and looked me up and down.

“That’s what I remember,” he referred to my naked body as he stared, his gaze making my cheeks burn. “I wanted to show myself to you every time you changed clothes… Took a bath… Slept naked,” he breathed, pulling me closer by the tie. His hand found my hip.

“How long… Have you?” I asked brokenly as he massaged the skin over my hip bone.

“Since he left.” He meant my paramour. “I could feel your loneliness,” he said, staring at my lips. “I could feel your lust.” He sighed, and put his lips right to my ear. “I could feel your heat.” His hot breath over my ear was like a drug, and it was effecting me.

He dropped the tie and put both hands on my waist. He looked at me with a completely blank face. It was impossible to read him.

“Undress me,” he commanded and I followed the command. My shaking hands undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Slow down.” He told me.

I took my time opening his shirt. Then slowly pushed his shirt and his jacket off his shoulders. His magnificent fucking shoulders. Jesus, he was attractive.

“What are you thinking?” He asked me; stone faced.

“I… Uh…” I stuttered as I got on my knees to take his pants off. “I was thinking that you’re very attractive.” I couldn’t lie. He said I’d be punished.

He smiled as he looked down on me. The blush rose in my face as I realized I was face to face with his crotch. I swallowed hard as I eyed the bulge in his pants. He was hard and pushing against his zipper.

I reached for his belt as my shaking breath left my lips. The metal buckle was warm to the touch. I opened it. That’s when he sighed and looked up to the ceiling. For a demon, he had very human needs.

“You’ve been watching me for months,” I mentioned. “Why now?”

“I waited for you to be desperate. I knew,” he said, caressing my hair. “That’s when you would be the most compliant.” He groaned as I pulled his member from his black briefs. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I like being hurt,” I confessed as I stroked his length. He was the perfect size. I knew he would feel like heaven in me. He laughed at my confession.

“Not as much as I would have if you hadn’t done what I told you when I told you,” he chuckled. “I’m being serious. You would have never- ungh- wanted to see me again. I want you to see me again.”

I looked up at that. My mouth hanging open. What did he just say?

“Well, get to it,” he said, pulling my hair. He wanted me to suck him.

I opened my mouth and took him in. He moaned and it made me shiver like his presence did before. The hot shiver.

I pulled all the tricks I knew and he gripped my hair harder when he liked something. So I repeated those motions until he pulled me back, and came on my tits.

I gasped in shock. I didn’t think he’d have me suck him to orgasm.

“Up,” he commanded. I complied immediately feeling proud, and he took hold of the tie again. I almost forgot about it.

He yanked me to my bed and threw me down. His cum smearing all over my sheets. I turned over and watched as he climbed over me.

I couldn’t do anything before he grabbed my wrists in one hand. He smiled at that and looked over my whole face before his gaze settled on my lips.

“What-” I said before his lips brushed over mine. Was he really kissing me? A demon kisses?

His lips were soft and he kissed me chastely before I moaned as he pressed into my center. When my mouth opened, an assault began. He pushed his tongue into my mouth and I burned. He was dominating me perfectly.

“Hurt me,” I mumbled between kisses.

“How much?” He chuckled before latching his mouth to my neck.

“You know what I like,” I moaned. I could feel his smile on my neck. He licked my pulse point.

“You really want it?” The rattle that affected his voice before was back a little bit. He was so excited that he couldn’t control his voice. I just nodded.

He flipped me over harshly and spanked me the hardest I’d ever been spanked in my life. I screamed into my mattress. “You’re sure?” He asked.

I bit back tears and a smile. “Yes.”

Then he proceeded to give me several bruises. I cried into my mattress as his assault fell on me. It hurt like hell, but his fixation on me was so enticing I didn’t care. He was using my body and I fucking loved it. I wanted him to use me to get himself off. Like, please /use me/.

“Ah! Finn!” I cried, actually crying.

“Your ass is so pretty when it’s purple,” he sighed before falling on top of me. I could feel the tip of him brushing against my pussy and I moaned shamelessly. I tried to roll. “No,” he said, pushing me down into the mattress. “Don’t look at me right now.”

I held very still and waited. Eventually, his hand came off my back and I slowly turned over. He looked like he did before. He was back in control, but spanking me like that had done something to him. It had brought the animal to the surface.

“Is everything alright?” My voice shook. I was scared. What if he lost control and did something terrible? My ass was already a giant bruise. That was just fun for him. It was the best spanking of my life. No one was willing to be that harsh so far.

“Yes, darlin’. Why do ya ask?” He smiled a cold grin. I shivered.

“You frightened me.” I confessed. He ran his hands under my back and pulled me to him.

“I know,” he growled in my ear before slowly pulling back to look at me, still holding me.

I briefly wondered what he was going to do next. The answer came quickly. He pushed into me in one smooth, strong stroke. I cried out and put my hands on his shoulders. He looked down at me with a burning gaze.

“That’s the face,” he said, eyes raking my expression. “That’s the face I wanted to give you.” He thrust again and I moaned, closing my eyes to enjoy the sensation. “No,” he grabbed the tie again. “You look at me when I’m pleasuring you.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. His lips hung open, his eyes were unfocused, and he had a blush on his face. He looked so /human/.

“Ah! Finn!” I called out as he hit my spot. “Right there!” I told him.

“Yes,” he growled in my ear. “Take it. Take my dick.”

I moaned at that and let my body go limp. I wanted him to literally dominate me and fuck me any way he wanted. I wanted him to take his pleasure at any cost.

“So compliant,” he commented. “You’re a good girl. I am sure to visit you again.” I burned at that. 'Yes, please,’ I thought. 'Please, come here again… Come to me.’

“Finn, can I- can I?!” I asked desperately. He smirked down at me.

“Yes, fucking- yes,” he said letting me know I had his permission to fall apart. And I did. I cried my release and he looked… God, he looked lost. It made my orgasm that much better. After a few seconds, he came in me. Moaning, shuddering, and gripping me. It was almost better than my release.

“Holy shit,” he chuckled. He was still in me, softening. “I knew you were the one.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Get up. Show me your ass.” He growled, pulling out of me and sitting back on his knees.

I got up and stood on shaky legs. I hesitated while I turned my back to him. He groaned when he saw my backside, and gently caressed each cheek. Taking his time to enjoy his work on me.

“Good,” he commented. “Very good,” he praised. “I will visit you again. I will.”

And, goddam, that made you hot. You really hoped he did.

3

“Remember, you’re attractive so use that to your advantage. Shoulders back, chin up and chest forward.” His hand left the small of your back and his whispers became quieter as Stark came into view. 

You felt him leave to steal whatever he needed and at the same time, Stark looked at you. 

“Mr Stark! I am a big fan,” you smiled and stuck your hips out a little. He looked you up and down a little and you knew this mission would be a piece of cake.

anonymous asked:

hey! I've seen a lot of people talk about the series the raven cycle, but I have never heard of it. have you read it?

yessssss THE RAVEN CYCLE IS LIKE MY BOOK CRUSH OF 2016. in other words the first series i’ve been truly obsessed with since hp.

important. don’t google it. don’t judge it by it’s horrible cover and also that little blob at back. it is AmaZinG. 

a teenage dork millionaire and his undying love for a dead welsh kind who may or may not be sleeping in henrietta. his angry irish friend, and his wonderful trailer park magic friend.

a house full of women. all of them physic. except for one. she on the other hand is a living battery who lives with a curse on her lips

man i am not selling this book very well. but read it. love it. cry. scream. laugh <333333333

SOULMATE AU (yay)

Mark hadn’t expected anything special from his soul mate. Probably a small girl, he knew they had brown hair, pale skin, and their initials where S.M. these where things everyone could tell about their soul mate. On the wrist, ankle, or a spot on the back of a person’s hand, was a skin tone, different from the person’s own skin. It was the skin of their soul mate. Then their hair color was the color their initials where written in, even when they dyed it, the color would change with it. Also anything smeared, or purposely put on the skin would show up on the others, like a tattoo that could move almost. So Mark had a fairly plain soul mate. His own parents had given him the ‘talk’ about how to KNOW who his soul mate would be.

“When you touch, you will know. See here. This was a scar your dad had. I touched him for the first time and it showed up on me. Not as a scar, but in his skin color.” His mom had explained. Mark nodded, eager to find his soul mate.

~~

He had grown up since his mother’s talk, and he had searched and searched. Felix had found this annoying half way through their last year of high school. So he basically forced Mark to calm down and think. So Mark did, and he supposed the universe would bring them together in time. Then at College Felix meet Marzia, and the two planned to get married. The two where very cute, but it rekindled Marks want of a soul mate. So he wrote on his arm, which felt very, invasive. He wrote,

'hello?’ And never got a response. So he figured they didn’t want this, or they weren’t prepared.

~~

That night had was sobbing to Felix and Marzia about his unresponsive soul mate when Marzia began laughing. He frowned but she held up a mirror. A pink mustache was painted into his face, like a tattoo, like a soul mate drawing. He quickly looked down at his arm to see smooth letters under his 'hello?’ Saying,

'Sorry, was working. Been waiting for you to talk.’

~~

Mark chatted and communicated with his soul mate through their writing. He had tired to exchange numbers, but S.M. didn’t have a phone. They never asked full names, never got super deep into appearances, but they knew each other very well. S.M. loved cookies, but not the crappy ones from gas stations, not the ones that where rock hard, no, the soft ones. They also loved video game visuals. They had an amazing amount of energy and it was never a dull moment.

Mark wanted to hold this person, and kiss them and never let them go. He wanted to meet them. So they decided on a place and a time. Mark was not alone when he went. Wade, Bob, Felix, Marzia, and Ken all tagged along. They all wanted to watch this. He kept an eye out for green hair and a bouncy personality. He was almost discouraged when someone tapped his shoulder. The whole group turned to see bright blue eyes, pale skin, a dark beanie covering the tuft of green, and an overly large tan long sleeve shirt. The thin male had a blue sweater tied about their waist and dark jeans hugging their legs. He seemed nervous and flustered. He didn’t speak, just held out his arm to show the initials, M.F. in red and black. Mark was shocked speechless. This was his soul mate? A smol cute, sweet boy?

He smiled and held out his hand. The other man took it and they both felt the zap of a connection.

“Names Sean, but everybody calls me Jack.” The man spoke, an Irish accent rolling from his lips. Mark felt his heart flutter and his body grow warm with a blush.

“I’m Mark. Just Mark. I-I didn’t expect you to be a boy.” He whispered the last part. Jack just smiled wider.

“I knew you where a boy.” Jack laughed.

“How?” Mark asked, confused. Jack snickered.

“When you where little you would draw dicks on your arm when you got bored.”

(Finally, happy ending!!)

Here is a Thing that nobody really understands.

Being a vampire is not rocket science.  You find somebody who might make for a great drink, you try for a little razzle dazzle, or better, an honest, harmless flirtation.    

If you’re That Kind of Vampire, you hunt your prey down, you terrorize them and then you feed.  

For the record - if you’re That Kind of Vampire, you’re an asshole.  You deserve that stake through the heart. 

Most sensible vampires try not to kill their prey, as that’s a sure way to eventually get the villagers to round up their pitchforks, stakes and torches.  The feeding process can be very pleasurable for vampire and victim and if you really, really enjoy immortality, you try to leave them with a pleasant dream or memory and a tiredness that nothing but some good food, more liquids and a night’s rest can easily remedy. 

The main thing is that you do NOT fall in love with your dinner - I don’t care how adorable, cute, brave and floofy they are. 

But of course, Prince Iacov had to be different. 

He would like it stated that a man cannot be confronted with five foot odd inches of Adorable Dandelion-Floofy Haired Irish Punk and not fall ass over boots.  No self-respecting vampire could look at those earnest, big blue eyes without scheming on the best way to achieve Nibbling, Cuddling and Snuggling Privileges™ from one Steven Grant Rogers. 

He’d tried flowers.  A dance.  Little presents.  Walks and outings.  His grandfather was utterly useless at giving counsel as the older Prince simply went into hysterical giggling whenever the subject was brought up.  And:  “I was much the same about your bunică, ingeraşul meu." 

He’s not quite sure when the line crossed from sweet, simple flirting to actual courting, but he thinks it may have happened sometime during a conversation in which Steve Rogers had dubbed him as "Bucko.”

“That’s not my name,"  It was a feeble objection, Iacov knew it, but he’d been more than slightly dazzled by the smile Steve Rogers had when he spoke.

"It’s Irish for a fine, swaggering, preening, teasing sort of fella, like yourself and being as I’m Irish, I thought it appropriate,” Steve returned. 

“Bucko?”

Steve pretends to think about it.  “Perhaps I shall call you Bucky, then, Your Highness.

Prince Iacov knew he was hopelessly in love when he happily accepted his new name.

—  Fucking Twilight, a book that darthstitch might eventually get around to writing, once she manages to get her Idiot Muses into gear

“Roman Reigns is boring/unrelateable” is tbh the vaguest excuse to not like the guy, like what’s the definitIon of ‘boring’?

Is it doing the same bunch of moves in a row and showing enough emotion to fit on a teaspoon? Because Brock pretty much got that covered. Is it talking in a dead monotone like Randy? Is it having an overly predictable outcome like Cena (which clearly isn’t the case anymore)?

And what’s 'relatable?’
Like, okay here’s what Roman is;

- A dad. A very loving dad.
- Had abandonment issues (talks a lot about Sika not being around and how it affected him).
- A POC/mixed race person.
- LOVES football/college captain.
- worked for his shit.
- failed at things he loved despite working hard on them.
- worked a blue collar job.
- was poor before/had to feed family on food stamps.
- heavy weight of familial responsibility/big shoes to fill.
- likes to punch things/bad temper?
- boss problems.

Like, are you a pod person that you can’t relate to any of these?

“But Artsy they’re not a part of his 'character!”

Ok sure, so what exactly is 'relatable’ about demon kings and crazy voodoo preachers? Or Bork cheddar? Or Goldberg? Or Sting?
How’s the common man suppose to relate to them?
I mean 'relate’ assumes you’re looking at them as a person and not like “I totally relate to how they’re executing that figure four” because that’s just weird.

I’ll tell you how, by looking at their human aspects; everyone loved Finn and it’s not necessarily because of his Demon King persona, he’s got that goofy nerd thing going on, he’s a good ol’ Irish boy with an endearing smile and an obsession for legos and collect his own fan art. That’s what you relate with.
Sami is endearing as //hell// because there is no line between the goofus he is on the stage and off it. Same goes to Xavier.
Everyone loves Bray as an evil preacher and even more as the kindhearted teddy bear behind it. I met the guy, I’m in awe of what he does as his character but man I fall I love with the humble, funny dude he is behind it. That’s relatable.
Seth is an arrogant little shit stain, I can’t imagine ANYONE relating to his 'character’; he’s got problems but come on, look at this doofus with his crossfit and his Yorkies and his being terrible at games.

So look; Roman as a character has problems. I’m not denying that.
The point is, you have no problem looking behind the mask to find reasons to enjoy your favourites. They are more than what they portray onscreen.
And here’s the tl;dr;

Roman is not boring or unrelatable. The company books him awful and you’re just too lazy to bother finding out who he is beyond the SWAT vest.

And honestly he deserves better that people wanting him to shut up and be the silent terminator dude and then going around and saying he’s got no personality.
Because you know damn well that’s not him, so decide whether you want //him// or to shove him into another mold; yours.

Happy Birthday, Andrew Scott!

On this day, exactly 40 years ago, on the beautiful island of Ireland, this majestically beautiful man was born

So it’s a day for celebration!

All dressed up for the occasion I see. Lovely

Originally posted by monsieurwilde

Yes you little sunbeam, keep smiling, it’s your day.

😍

Oh you and your fluffy hair

And your face

And all your idiosyncrasies

Eeexactly 😊

Wait what oh okay yes carry on

Birthday boy knows how it’s done!


Wishing an absolutely fabulous birthday with buckets and buckets of love to my little Irish Angel. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

i love how half of the jim moriarty fandom is like “man, i’m not even invested in the show that much, i’m trapped here only because of that pretty irish little shit”