i love this man more than i love life

  • you: magnus loves alec more than he's ever loved anyone else
  • me, an intellectual: magnus has loved many people over many centuries and it's incredibly disrespectful to discredit his past loves just to make his relationship with alec seem more "special". magnus having deeply loved people in the past doesn't make his love for alec any less real or important. also, love isn't a contest and having magnus "rank" his various relationships is gross.

And like thru all the struggling thru compulsory het and “i looked at a shirtless man for more than 2 seconds does this mean im a faker whos actually into guys?????” i am v blessed that my attraction to women remains Unthreatened. like no one can make me doubt my love & prioritization of women it is simply too Powerful n Unwavering. I Love Girls & that is Rigid and Certain, one of the only things im certain of in my whole entire life

When I was young I asked more of people than they could give: everlasting friendship, endless feeling.

Now I know to ask less of them than they can give: a straightforward companionship. And their feelings, their friendship, their generous actions seem in my eyes to be wholly miraculous: a consequence of grace alone.

—  Albert Camus, The First Man

Do you ever just stop and think about the fact that Oswald Cobblepot is completely and utterly in love with a man?

The Penguin, an iconic Batman villain that first appeared in 1941 is in love with Riddler, another iconic Batman villain.

Canonly, without hiding behind “subtext”, in love with a man.

And I love how just … open Oswald was about it. No self-hate or questioning his sexuality. The man didn’t give a shit, one morning after a few romantic events he just woke up and proudly announced it to his maid. And he planned on telling Ed he was the love of his life on the same day.  

I’m not a fan of the events that happened in recent episodes but … I’m happy that they made Oswald so openly queer. And that he told Ed he loved him more than just once.

ok one of the fucking funniest childhood memories i have is this one time when i was around 7

me and my friend would collect webkinz and some of them dated each other. my pink pony, lollipop was dating her lil’kinz penguin, michael

a few months later, people were playing american idol karaoke at some guys birthday party (for wii i think?) and thats where i heard rihanna’s unfaithful for the first time. i was literally so entranced and inspired that when i got home that night i listened to it again on youtube and read every lyric carefully

i got so inspired that i had the sudden idea to make my pony write a break-up letter to michael, but the words were going to be the lyrics to unfaithful with some pronouns changed. the letter was literally like

Dear Michael,

Story of my life
Searching for the right
But it keeps avoiding me
Sorrow in my soul
Cause it seems that wrong
Really loves my company

He’s more than a man
And this is more than love
The reason that the sky is blue
The clouds are rolling in
Because I’m gone again
And to you I just can’t be true

And I know that you know I’m unfaithful
And it kills you inside
To know that I am happy with some other guy
I can see you dying

I don’t wanna do this anymore
I don’t wanna be the reason why
Every time I walk out the door
I see you die a little more inside
I don’t wanna hurt you anymore
I don’t wanna take away your life
I don’t wanna be
A murderer


i actually thought i was so poetic?? anyway the next day, my friend comes over as usual, and i say in the saddest and most sentimental voice, “um.. lollipop wanted me to give michael this letter… she couldn’t do it herself..” like i was really into this

so she opens the letter and after reading maybe 2 lines she just looks me dead in the eyes and says “these are the lyrics to unfaithful by rihanna” and i can still remember the blood draining from my face

anonymous asked:

Can you do a second part to the pictures in which you find Jonghyun beautiful????? Your response was so cute you love him so much


when he wears hoodies and looks extremely warm and comfortable also the man does not age 

when he’s the softest man in the world and even eye contact with him for a second would make your heart warm 

when he’s confident in himself in not only his looks but work

when he’s with his mom and roo and talks about how much he loves them plus sodam obv

when he plays the bass 

when he’s with his second family 

when he’s unapologetically emotional and cries because he’s thankful 

when he’s humble 



when he’s with confetti again  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


when he’s unamused 

when he laughs with his entire body ♡♡

jfkdsjflkj the point is he’s beautiful in every aspect and this still isn’t everything because there’s no shortage with how beautiful he is :)

So here’s the thing

Yes Sara loves Scott more than life itself. She loves him more than she loves brownies and chocolate chip cookies, hard to believe I know.

But that does not stop her from messing with him.

And that means that every week he receives photos of their expeditions that become increasingly more elaborate.

It starts off harmless sure, the wish you were hear photos and hey I found this cool plant photos. But then.

One day Scott recieves a photo of a literal man-eating plant.

She sends him a photo of her and vetra wearing shades with spewing lava in the very-near background.

Liam picks up on this and soon he’s in a good majority of the photos and basically they’re both just giant goofy nerds

One day he gets a photo of Sara with a very confused Kallo in the background with the caption “I have a cute boyfriend and you don’t #suckit” and Scott is personally insulted that she didn’t tell him sooner

Then he receives a photo of Drack holding Sara over the edge of a cliff and he had a fucking heart attack.

She once sent him a blurry picture of her running frantically away from a hoard of giant beetles, and he later gets a photo of her stuck in a hole she used to escape the bugs, with Jaal trying to help her out and liam dying of laughter in the background. Basically she starts giving him a heart attack once a week.

He gives up on scolding her for being reckless after getting a photo of her, liam and Jaal silhouetted by a huge explosion. It’s no longer advised for his health.

To all the girls who have lost someone they thought they would never get over,
You will move on.
Trust me.
After being with someone on and off for a year, I thought they were the love of my life. My soul mate.
I thought I would never find love again.
I thought I would never be happy again.
I thought I would never find someone as good as he was.
But I proved myself wrong.
I found someone even better.
I found someone who treated me better than he ever did.
I found someone who appreciated me more than he ever could have.
I found someone who is two times the man he could ever be.
I found happiness and love.
And I would never change that.
So trust me, whatever you’re going through now, better things will come.
I thought the same thing you are now and I never believed people when they told me I would get over him.
But I did.
And you will too.
—  You will be okay.
Supernatural: 10 Lessons From Tonight’s Episode.

“First Blood,” Season 12, episode 9.

1.  The Winchesters acting dangerous in prison garb reawakened a kink I’d forgotten I had.

2.  They are also objectively terrifying. 

(And yet still moral:  after all, they did escape from maximum security without ever having to kill anyone.)

3.  And probably escapees from an eighties action movie.

4.  Dean with fuzzy bedhead worriedly calling his boyfriend is something I never knew I needed.

5.  Cas loves his stupid Winchester family more than life itself.  

6.  They are also driving him to the point of an emotional breakdown.

Look at him.  He’s about to fucking cry, and all because they can’t go two seconds without their compulsive messiah complex bullshit. 

7.  But on a more positive note, Dean undeniably loves him back

Look at this face.  This is not the face of a man looking at a “little brother figure.”  This is the face of a man looking at his one true love, and it is beautiful.

8.  Every one of the British Men of Letters has an inexplicably intense, homoerotic fixation on Cas.

Maybe they all have an angel fetish?

9.  Crowley remains an unapologetically salty bitch, and I hope that never, ever changes. 

Also, every interaction he has with Cas is a gift.

10.  Destiel is real and beautiful.  

Look at these two platonic bro pals riding in the back seat together (and low-key probably holding hands.)  Another thing Dean has insisted he’d never, ever do.  Just like shorts.  And wearing women’s underwear.  And cucumber water.

It’s almost as if he systematically hides aspects of himself that might viewed as “feminine,” or “not straight.”  Whatever could that mean, I wonder. 

Gif credit to:  @mycocklestiel, @littlehobbit13, @codestielckles, @themegalosaurus, @yourfavoritedirector, @bagginshield@out-in-the-open

My name is Imp, and I died today.

My name is Imp, and I died today.

I turned 13 this past Friday. My Mom had been saying for months that she just wanted me to make it to my birthday, so I held out for her, but things started to go downhill the next day. Mom tried to find ways to keep me comfortable but in the end it wasn’t enough, so she held me and rocked me to sleep, murmuring how loved I was, how grateful she was for every moment of the past 13 years, that it wouldn’t hurt anymore now, that she would love me forever.

She talked to me about my life, from the moment we met in a shelter in Western Massachusetts, when I was only ten weeks old. I liked to sleep half buried in the (clean) litter box in my kennel while my littermates played, and as soon as Mom came in, she spotted me and made a beeline for the kennel. Gazing in at the three kittens inside, she pointed at me, dozing in my spot, and announced, “That’s my cat! The little weird one!” She took me out and we cuddled (well, she cuddled. I climbed her arms and sniffed her face and chewed on her hair), but then she put me back in so she could check out the other kittens “just to be fair.” I stood at the door of my kennel the entire time, yelling at her to get back over here, because clearly we’d just had a moment.

In the end, she agreed, and two days later she came to pick me up. She reminded me that the first day she brought me home, she settled down for a nap with me, and I decided I absolutely had to sleep on the pillow next to her head, curled up in a tiny ball. As I got older, that stayed my spot—on the pillow with Mom, purring her to sleep (or exfoliating her forehead awake at 5AM). Turned out I grew up into a pretty big cat, and the pillow seemed to be getting increasingly smaller. We still found a way to make it work when I figured out I could wrap myself around her head like a pair of earmuffs. She sometimes complained about waking up with a mouthful of fur but I knew she didn’t mind.

I was what my Grandma refers to as “a character” when I was little (Mom prefers to use the term “maniac.”) She smuggled me into a dorm room at Smith College for one summer, and I had this habit of escaping down the hall when she opened the door. I also really liked to use her mattress as a springboard to fly into the screened window by her bed. I’d dig my claws in and hang by all four paws, like a suction-cup Garfield on a car window. Mom about peed herself every time.

I weighed about 3 and a half pounds at this point, so it was pretty mystifying to Mom when I somehow managed to unplug her refrigerator. Twice. I never did show her how I made it happen. A man’s gotta leave a little mystery.

As I grew up, Mom and I were a team pretty much from day one. We lived with other people and we lived with other cats, but everybody who encountered us knew right away that we had a particularly special bond. Mom really does like me best. Take that, Bug and Cassie.

My body wasn’t always a good sport. Asthma, arthritis, some suspicious lumps that ended up being benign (after I went through a big surgery to remove them). We handled all of that one thing at a time, and Mom always took good care of me, even if sometimes I made it hard.

Then came the big one. Two years ago Mom took me to the vet to point out some nodules under my skin. After removal, they came back positive for something called neurofibrosarcoma, a soft-tissue tumor that’s really invasive locally. It’s impossible to cure, but there were plenty of options for keeping it at bay, and Mom threw everything we had at it (but she never stopped asking how it would impact my quality of life and if it was worth putting me through the latest intervention).

In the end, the hard work of the oncology department at LSU Veterinary Teaching Hospital (especially Dr. Dedeaux, Dr. Boudreaux, and Tammy and Shay) and the collaboration of my regular vet, Magazine Street Animal Clinic, (Dr. Scott and Dr. Amy and Teresa and Rei in particular) combined to give me two whole years after diagnosis. Without the interventions I would likely have had no more than a couple months. There were some rough times in there, but Mom helped me through them and in the end, I was always happy to crawl into her lap, purr, and exfoliate her forehead.
Eventually, though, we ran out of options, and when my body started to fall apart on Saturday, Mom knew right away that it was almost time. She did everything she could to keep me comfortable, but yesterday night she looked at me, restlessly shifting around, unable to get comfortable, unable to sleep, unwilling to eat, and said “it’s time, buddy, isn’t it?”

She was right. It was time to let go.

When we woke up this morning, Mom crawled over next to me and I gave her the very last purrs I had in me, rumbling my affection while she rested her head on my side and listened to my heartbeat. Then she made a phone call. She cried while she was on the phone. She cried so much the past few days. I wish she wasn’t so sad, but goodbyes are hard. After she got off the phone, I curled up against her, playing the little spoon one last time while she gently stroked me and crooned to me.

Dr. Scott and Teresa, my friends from Magazine Street Animal Clinic, came right to the house to help Mom rock me to sleep. My grandparents also stayed with me, and my friend Bobbie came, too. I’m glad they were there for Mom after I was gone. In the end, it was fast and painless, and with my Mom cradling me in her arms, I let go.

I’m not in pain anymore, and I was loved with a ferocity and dedication that very few cats (or people) have experienced. Mom told me she would love me every day until the day she dies, and even though I couldn’t speak, I think she knows that I loved her every day right up through the final moments. She was it for me, and me for her. Mom says she’s incredibly lucky that I came into her life. I think we were both lucky.

My name is Imp. I turned 13 last Friday, and today, I died. But before that, I lived a damn good life.

Goodnight, world.

I’m turning 19!!

It’s on March 13th ! Just thought i’d announce it beforehand ^-^  I want to thank everyone who supports and cares for me! Everyone who reads WingSpiral and appreciates the work I do for it! There’s a girl behind this blog (me lol), and I really love all the people who acknowledge that! Glad I mean more to you than just some story machine HAHA! Even tho i am kind of a story machine i just really love stories man i love stories I’m crazy I can’t stop making stories I need help WingSpiral is honestly my life wtf is wrong with me

Thanks for everything!!! ❤❤ And have a great weekend everyone!!

“Oh man, I really love dancing. I think it’s a great way to let go and bounce around. Dancing was a great way to really get back on top of things in those days (‘97). The most difficult thing about quitting drugs is becoming 'normal’ again. Your mind and body are so used to the stuff that, when you are clean, you feel you are a boring, superficial and useless person. There was a period of nine months in which I had the feeling that I couldn’t express myself in a way that was really John Frusciante. The only way in which I could express myself was dancing. I had a pretty big living room and the whole day I was dancing to music that I liked, whether it was Black Sabbath, The Cure or something else, no dance music in any case. I almost literary translated the music and lyrics into visual things in a way that made sense to me. For about three months dancing was my main activity. And at the end of that period I was myself again. Then I was ready to quit everything: even smoking pot and drinking wine, 'cause I had started doing a lot of that again. I felt ready to try my best at leading a normal life.”

- John Frusciante

At times I needed
my friends, 
more than I needed myself,
more than I ever needed 
a man. You see, 
I would get so 
homeless without 
them. So unpoetic. 
They were the love of my 
I was so goddamn 
melancholic withiout them.
Sweetly pathetic without them. 
They were my temple, 
my place to go
when I needed forgivness.
Chocolate and kisses, 
soft touches on my body.
I would have chosen them 
and over again. 
Our phone dialogue
were movie scripts,
manuscripts of hours,
hours of poetry.
They were my muse,
and they knew it. Till the bone.
I wrote them down like
I owed them all of my poetry.
At times they used me,
and I was there to be used.
At times I used them
till my sins were theirs.
—  My Girlfriends Were The Love Of My Life by Royla Asghar

Jeff Davis:  In Teen Wolf, we’ve always been the proponents of, “You love more than once in life.” 

Stiles Stilinski: Remember how you were the first girl I ever danced with? Remember how I had a crush on you freshman year, sophomore year, junior year? Remember how you saved my life? Just remember. Remember I love you. 

Jeff Davis: …Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. 

Love || Jughead Jones

Prompt from @the-magic-case: Could you do a jughead imagine based on the song Love by Lana Del Rey? The song is about just being in love with someone. My personal favorite lyrics are “you get ready you get all dressed up. To go no where in particular” I could just imagine the reader being smitten with Jughead and he always winners [wonders] why the reader cares for him so much even he feels the same about them

A/N: This is probably more of a drabble than a oneshot, but I hope it’s okay! I also listened to “Love” the entire time I was writing this (it’s actually very good! What do ya know?)

Gif by @riddlvr


Jughead Jones had only loved three people in his entire life.

His mom, his sister, and you.

For two of those people, it was too painful for him to think about and he pushed those memories and feelings aside.

However, for you…

Oh man.

The love he had for you left him absolutely breathless. Your smile, your laugh. Everything about you made his heart sing.

The way you waved your hands around when explaining something to him. The way your furrowed your brow and bit your lip as you typed up an article for the Blue & Gold. Especially the way you dressed.

You could look good in anything, but you always got dressed up, no matter where you were going. It baffled everyone. Why you wore your nicest sweater and skirt with your hair done all pretty when you went to Pop’s or why you wore your nicest dress during a rainy football game escaped everyone’s minds. But Jughead loved it.

You didn’t give a damn what anybody thought.

The way you cared for him also blew his mind. You were always so kind and he never understood why. Sure, he had friends that were nice and all like Betty and even Archie, but you were something different.

The way you put your hand on his shoulder when he was feeling down and asked him if something was wrong. The times when you knew he needed to be alone and bought him a milkshake to cheer him up. The way you held him close to you after one particularly rough day (the anniversary of Jellybean’s birthday) and combed your fingers through his dark hair as he cried.

Everyone he loved was taken from him. His mom. Jellybean. 

Everything he loved was taken from him. The drive-in. Also known as his home. 

He couldn’t tell you his true feelings.

What if he lost you too?

Jughead sighed and shook his head, the memories of you dissipating. He peered around the corner as you talked with Betty and Veronica outside your classroom as you waited for the bell to ring.

He smiled softly at you as he was overpowered with love.

God, he was so far gone.

He shook his head as he turned away from you, shoving his hands in his pockets, missing the way you had turned to look at him as he walked away.

There was no way you liked him back. Loved him back like he loved you.

But you did.


A/N: Let me know what you thought!! 


@gottalovetheapocalypse @lydixstiles @jughead-from-riverdale @pinkhappypanda @iamthegoatmaster @subsi4123 @reginaphlanageadams @river-vixns @deanskitten @latenightbooknerd @lostinpercyseyes @captainelsaeverdeen @itsjaynebird @allineedisconnor @juggie-jones-iii @superoriginalteenwolf @sastielstan @1amluke

When Iris said “I love all of you” she meant ALL OF BARRY ALLEN YES?



She meant ALL OF THAT yes?

We all love Brilliant Political Chessmaster (Thudmeister?) Havelock Vetinari. That goes without saying. Who I also love is Honestly Baffled Havelock Vetinari. And I love him all the more for how rarely we get to see him.

Consider Vetinari fighting off arsenic poisoning and staring at take out pizza for the first time in his life while contemplating that this is actually going to be his dinner.

Consider Vetinari stopping in dismay in the middle of his thought about clock springs when he realizes he may have wound Vimes up too far and caused the man to self destruct rather than simply vent his frustration in useful directions.

Consider Vetinari politely sitting back down in Leonard’s workshop with his face a mask covering the utter surprise at the famous inventor casually mentioning he visited an island that until recently been at the bottom of the ocean.

Consider Vetinari staring at Vimes in utter astonishment as he discovers that A.E. Pessimal bit a troll in a fit of rage.

And while I don’t believe the book specifically describe his reaction, I like to consider Vetinari taking a step back in genuine surprise and alarm when Vimes goes spare over the suggestion of making a statue in honor of those who died on the glorious of the 25th of May.