i think this is fake though

he gives me so much butterflies making me never want to stop thinking about him. he’s always the last thing on my mind and i’m always making fake little scenarios i wish would happen. seeing him in person makes the butterflies in my stomach seem like nothing. he’s always smiling which makes me want to smile back. his eyes make me drown even though they aren’t even close to the color of the ocean. his voice and his laugh are just so adorable. his personality and how he likes to have fun makes me so happy. he’s so hyper and just so ‘loveable’. i’m falling for him so badly but he can’t see how i can make him happy. how i can help him in bad times, how i can always be there for him, he just doesn’t see how much i want to be there by his side. it stings me just knowing that i think about him all day when he has probably never even thought about me once. i wanna be his but i also want to get over him but neither is happening.
—  rant.
'BTS Dishes About Their US Tour, Songwriting Process, & Onstage Style'

TWIST: What are you most excited about for your return to the US?

BTS: The size of the tour got much bigger than last time we were in the US back in 2015. It’s almost 10-fold this time. 5 arena shows in 3 cities sold out in less than 5 minutes! We’re amazed by the fact fans in the USA are passionate and supportive and we’re super excited to come back to meet them all.

TWIST: What is the most exciting part of touring around the world, and what has been the most challenging so far?

BTS: The most exciting part of touring around the world is that you get the unique opportunity to meet different people from various background. Regardless of their differences, they sing BTS songs in unison and cheer for us, and it is very special experience for all of the band. On the other hand, the most challenging part has been the life on the road, being far away from our family and friends for weeks.

TWIST: Which of your songs are you most looking forward to performing on this part of the tour?

Rap Monster: “Spring Day.” I wrote the main melody for the lead single for the first time and also wrote lyrics.

SUGA: “Spring Day.” I wrote main lyrics based on my personal experience with old friends. It is about my sad memories with him and it makes me sentimental whenever I listen to the song.

Jungkook: “Not Today.” It has the coolest beat of all songs in the album and I personally like the choreography for the song.

J-Hope: “FIRE.” It has always been my favorite and the song has all the essence of BTS can show to the audience on stage.

TWIST: What’s the best piece of advice you’ve gotten in your career?

Rap Monster: “If you’re tied up with not gaining approval from others, you’ll never be able to move forward.”

TWIST: How would you say you and your sound have evolved over the years since first forming the group?

BTS: BTS sound has evolved since our debut in 2013 but has rooted its music in western pop music and hip-hop. We try to adapt all the hottest trends in pop music scene and that’s why fans around the world like it despite the cultural differences. All members listen to different genres of music all the time, from EDM, hip-hop, R&B to hip-house… and we believe BTS is kind of creating a new category of music genre beyond K-Pop.

TWIST: Do you remember the first song you ever wrote, what it was about, and what inspired you to write it?

Rap Monster: I don’t remember the name of the song, but there was an online community of amateur rappers who gathered together. I downloaded a beat from another amateur beat maker and I wrote a song based off of that. The song didn’t really make much sense, I just wrote it using every hard word I possibly knew. I actually found the song 2 years ago on my computer and listened to it thinking “What is this?” It was a mess.

TWIST: Have you ever written a song in a strange or unusual place? Or been inspired by something totally random?

Rap Monster: So many, I think I wrote a song while I was at the Grand Canyon in 2009. I had a trip to Vegas/Grand Canyon and I think I wrote a song there because I was shocked by the scenery. I definitely don’t remember what it was about though.

TWIST: Who are some artists that you would love to collaborate with?

BTS: There are so many artists we would love to collaborate with, such as Drake, J Cole, Justin Bieber… The list goes on and on.

TWIST: Which other artists/songs are on your personal playlists?

BTS: Drake “Fake Love”, The 1975, Kehlani, Lorde.

TWIST: How would you describe your personal fashion senses?

BTS: It’s mix of gothic and Japanese street wear. My recent favorite brands are WTAPS, Neighborhood and Yoji Yamamoto.

TWIST: And how does your personal style differ from the costumes you wear onstage?

BTS: Onstage clothing for BTS is custom-made to maximize our performance while being matched with the concept of each song.

TWIST: What is it like when fans recognize you on the street/ask for photos? Is it crazy? Surreal? Overwhelming?

Rap Monster: It’s a really nice experience to have somebody who knows me, but sometimes I like to be alone and hang around the city. I think it depends on the situation. There are some situations that I want to not be noticed by others, but people easily notice me. I’ve been told that I’m too unique (my walk and my clothes) and I’m easy to recognize, and I think that’s really nice. If I’m an artist or an idol and nobody knows me that would be sad.

TWIST: Can you share a fun fact about one of your other band members that you don’t think even the most dedicated fans will know?

Rap Monster: Many people think that SUGA is like the Grandfather of the group, but he acts more like a little kid. Jimin is the opposite, he looks like a baby but inside he’s mature and like a Grandfather.

I don’t even know. I was taking a walk today and this idea popped into my head. I swear I’m still writing the bookstore AU, too. Also, *pops confetti*, I hit 2k followers today! Who ARE all you guys? Anyway, this fluff/ridiculousness is for you. ~1.6k words, rated G. Sterek, of course.

now also on AO3

The whole thing starts with Stiles really, really craving a meatball sub from the place across the street.

“God, someone shut him up,” Erica groans. They’re all kind of at their breaking point by now; they’ve been camped out in this meeting room all day, brainstorming. “He’s been talking about the same goddamn sandwich for seven and a half minutes now, and it’s making me hungry.”

“If only our ad campaign were about sandwiches, Stilinski would have it in the bag and we could all go home,” Isaac sighs.

From across the table, Derek rises abruptly to his feet and storms out. (Or maybe it’s just that Stiles always interprets everything Derek does as stormy. With those eyebrows, it’s hard not to.)

Stiles assumes he’s just gotten so fed up with them all that it’s either storm out or kill someone, and he’s just grateful Derek chose Door Number 1. It’s a good day not to get killed by Derek Hale.

Only, fifteen minutes later he comes back in. With a paper bag from the deli.

As soon as he gets within grabbing distance, Stiles practically collapses across the table in his haste to reach for it. “Oh my god, is that what I think it is?”

Derek holds it up over his head. “Who says this is for you? Maybe all your talk inspired me to go get a meatball sub of my own.”

“Oh, please. Like anyone with your abs eats meatball subs.” Stiles leaps to his feet on his swivel chair—because screw safety, Derek will catch him if he starts to topple over—and snatches the bag out of Derek’s grip. Derek doesn’t fight him for it very hard.

“Why don’t I get a meatball sub?” Erica whines, thumping her head down on her notebook. “Doesn’t anyone love me?”

Derek shrugs and takes his seat again. “You didn’t ask.”

“You just like Stilinski better,” she grumbles, and Derek just shrugs again.

Meanwhile, Stiles rips into the bag and takes a huge bite out of the gloriousness that is this sandwich. He can’t help throwing in a few theatrical moans just to taunt Erica, and she suitably rewards him with a glare of death across the table.

“Mmm,” Stiles says. “Derek, I love you so much, dude. Marry me.”

Instead of the grumpy eyebrows he expects, Derek meets his eye, leans back smugly in his chair, and says, “Okay.”

Keep reading

Every time @iguanamouth shares a pic of their iguana Wasabi, I think her nose looks like a cracked rock, so I decided to make a Pokemon design based off of that.

Presenting Iguagma, the Molten Lizard Pokemon. A Fire/Rock type, it is valued for the crystals that grow on its back, as well as the special gems that form on its neck. They enjoy eating various minerals and are fairly laid back, though attempts to keep one as a pet can be dangerous.

Ball Chain & Satin

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: “Can you write a one shot where Bucky and Reader are getting married, but Bucky is scared. Angst or fluff, it’s up to you. Thanks!” Requested by Anonymous.

Word Count:1,391

Warnings: Language (probably)

A/N: I’m working on my requests, yay me! Oh boii, the fluff is strong :) Hope you’ll like it!

Originally posted by heartsandwheels

You were in front of the mirror, admiring your sleeveless satin wedding gown when someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Grabbing a fistful of satin, you gathered up the skirt of your gown and moved closer to the door. You pressed your ear against the wood and heard him shuffling around on the other side of the door.

“Buck, what are you doing here? We’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“You’ll see me in an hour. Now, hush!”

Keep reading

i. domesticity

I drink milk every day because my doctor says I need it to grow. Kind of like I need this calcium rush in order to make my bones stronger so I stop cracking them so easily. Preventing them from ever reverting to the weak, knobbly knees of last summer when a boy I had a crush on. Had a crush on, crushed me. Like a pulp. Into grains. Like a spoon grinding up soggy cereal swimming at the bottom of a bowl. I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering I didn’t drink 3 glasses today, and run to the refrigerator in my socks and chug it straight from the gallon, barbaric and yearning like a schoolgirl hitching her skirt up too high, and picture the white flowing through my veins. Softening me. Rounding me out. Giving me curves. I get a brain freeze instead and pray I’ll stop crying over spills and that I can sleep with this cold lurching in my stomach.

ii. vicinity

Maybe one day my hair will stop being so limp in the heat, but I don’t think that kind of thing can be anticipated, so I just have to wait. Girls like me live in the back of an un-air-conditioned convenience store, ratty sweatpants, tight tank tops, and crawl out with week-old receipts bursting from their pockets. Like glued ribcage kind of girls, like elastic hair tie, red marks around the wrist kind of girls. The cashier doesn’t mind when I snag a magazine from the rack and browse through it without paying because no matter how hard I try, I end up looking pre-pubescent anyway. And they let things slide. For a girl like me, at least. I’m saying, lopsided bun, wide eyes, a mouthful of crooked teeth, stars pulling them into their places, I was always too scared to get braces. The cover has some headline about how to enlarge your breasts naturally, which I think might be useful, and another about how to communicate effectively with others without saying hurtful things, which makes me laugh. I flip to the back to check my horoscope and eat that prophetic, adolescent shit catered to the teenage soul up like Eucharist laid under the tongue. Swallow down a spoonful of March’s: “Prepare to face some stress this month, but that’s okay! You’ll be able to get through it and find time to relax.” I want to rip out the page and shove it into my bra, like keeping these soft, meaningless words close to my chest will make them seep into my heart and change me. Stop making me think so much, fill my brain up with Arizona tea and static instead. But I’m cheap, and I shove the magazine back. I think my chest will stay flat forever.

iii. mobilization

I seek healing. Mending. I’m fingernails deep, sitting in the back of a subway at 3 a.m., pressing crescent moons into the leather seat, trying to dig up salvation. You can’t find that here, you can’t find that in the cracks between the tiles, you can’t find comfort in the ground up cigarette butt stamped into the floor. I’m wishing against this fogged up glass I could say anything, anything that would make sense for once, so someone could help me. Like please, my mind is bending in backwards, like please, I don’t think this underdeveloped chest can take any more of this resentment or it’s going to explode through my ribcage, out of my flesh, like please, I don’t want to hurt anymore. And it’s not my fault that I launch myself around like I’m in some sick little competition, pretending I don’t care, like I’m having the time of my life. Of course I’m not, of course I’m not, I don’t think having your hands shake and your brain go fuzzy whenever you think a little too much is fun, something to be documented for the world to see. I guess I’m different from other people that way, I’d rather people think I’m having a good time than actually have one without anyone knowing. I wish I knew how to sew, so I could stitch up my fibrillating heart, no matter how sloppy and crooked, but the needle jabs my finger as the subway lurches left, and I bleed, I bleed, I bleed.

iv. unearthliness

My mom told me not to walk naked in front of the altar. Disrespectful, she called it, and even though I agree, sometimes I test my divinity and emerge from the bathroom, the steam from the shower wafting off smoke like the incense in its pot. Young god, skin tinted green from fake gold. Young god, empty stomach, fruit scooped out of its rind, leaving me seedless. This hatred has roots, and I don’t know whether I want to dig out my insides with my hands or fill myself up until I’m close to bursting. I let people think the scratches on my knees are from a night of alcohol and a boy tugging my hair. Of course, it’s that and not child worship on a scratchy rug, not begging for forgiveness, not praying for glamour and glory, not hoping for. Of course it’s not hoping for something better.

—  this pain lasts in every location
FACTS ABOUT CONNOR MURPHY (spoilers)

So I have decided to post all the facts and hints about Connor Murphy’s past that are shown in the musical. It’s hard to make out considering people in the fandom usually focus on the lies Evan tells to figure out Connor’s personality.

To get this conclusion (which I will post in a second) I literally skipped all scenes concerning Evan’s lies and went directly to the Murphy family and what they say. None of these facts/hints involve what Evan said about Connor.

First of all, I’ll say now that I have put my own interpretation on each of these facts.

And so, I will put all FACTS in BOLD.
Anything out of bold is my own interpretation and how I see it to be. It’s up to you to agree with me or disagree.

First, I will post my conclusions on each family member, and then afterwards, I will post the reasons for each one.

Zoe

Zoe was an emotional and verbal abuse victim. There is no evidence of physical abuse, although there were threats that could have potentially led to that. She has all the right to not grieve over Connor, in all honesty, she could have sent him to the police for what he did, but as an abuse victim, that is very hard to do. Connor was probably the cause of most of her insecurities and she hated him for that. The unhealthy habit of taking out his anger on the nearest person to him probably made him lash out at his sister whenever he had a panic attack. Judging by how he really did care enough to keep the creepy letter about his sister, written by Evan, in his pocket for 3 days before he committed suicide, it’s safe to say that he really regretted being mean to his sister and actually cared about her.

Connor’s mom, Cynthia

Connor’s mom was a woman obsessed with reputation. She’s known as the rich man’s wife, and wants more than anything to be a regular family. But because her son had mental illnesses, her perfect image was ruined. She acted as though she was there for him but when it came down to it, she did nothing. She pushed for therapy but after a while, her husband took him out of it because “it wasn’t worth the money,” and she basically went, “welp, I tried.” I will quote what I say later: Connor’s mom might not actually be sad that her son is gone, but rather, she’s ashamed that her family actually doesn’t care. It seems like Connor’s mom is filled with regret for not being there for her son, and she’s forcing her family to act like they regretted it too, because that’s what a real family should have been like. But this is only a personal theory.

Connor’s dad, Larry

Connor’s dad might be one of the main sources of his depression. It is very obvious to me that Connor’s dad believed him to be a disappointment. He didn’t grieve for his dead son and only played along to make his wife happy. He’s annoyed by the whole situation. It even seemed like he hated the fact that there was fake remnants of his son in Evan. Almost like he wished Connor wasn’t friends with Evan so he could just forget all about him and not need to deal with it. At some point he was a kind father. When they went to the orchard together for picnics, it seems like they were a happy family. Connor’s dad had played with their toy plane together and had some great memories. The whole family practically forgot about this, though. Connor’s dad didn’t cry at his own dead son’s funeral. I think that sums it up.

Connor Murphy

Connor was a complicated person. He had many different mental illnesses. I could research which ones he probably had, but there’s probably already a post somewhere on it already. One thing for sure, is that he was unstable. He might not have been like that his whole life, but at the time of knowing him, the time he was briefly alive in the show, he was incredibly unstable. Everything and anything could set him off, and he probably hated that about himself as well. Pushing away everyone near him that could possibly help and hating himself for doing so, spiraling himself into a closed minded world of self-hate and regret, which is something that many people can relate to, including me. He did a lot of horrible things to his sister and to his family. I don’t blame his family for not actually grieving him, he was a really bad person. The problem is, he could have been a good person as well. He had all the potential to get better. He talked to Evan, probably wishing to say sorry about pushing him earlier in the hall. He was trying, he wanted to try. He wanted to get better. He just gave up too soon.

This post is very long! I’m sorry. If you’d like to read more, I’m putting the reasons I’ve come to these conclusions under the cut.

Remember, ALL FACTS ARE IN BOLD. Anything else is my personal interpretation.

Keep reading

Consider this (based on a conversation I had with some friends a while ago): Pride and Prejudice and Zombies for people who actually like Pride and Prejudice.

Look–I tried to read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and I got about 20 pages in before I came to the conclusion that the person who wrote it did so out of the belief that the original Pride and Prejudice was stuffy and boring. There were out of character vulgar puns. And the trailer for the movie did not convince me that I had missed anything by cutting short my reading experience.

So, what I’m talking about here is this premise: the world of Pride and Prejudice, but if you die, it’s highly likely, almost certain that your corpse will get up and try to eat people.

But no one dies in Pride and Prejudice, you might say. In fact, few or no people die in any Jane Austen novel.

This is true. But people do get sick with some regularity. Imagine the tension added to Jane getting sick after going to visit Bingley if there was the chance that she would become a zombie after she died. Becoming a zombie in an eligible bachelor’s house probably would have seriously wrecked any chances of any of the living sisters ending up with him.

Imagine Mr. Collins, as a minister, having the duty upon someone’s death of severing their head with a ceremonial plate or something that would prevent the corpse from rising. Obviously important, but this only makes him more self-important and obnoxious.

And dangerous.

For you see, in this version, Mr. Bennett, who stays in his office all the time, whose life is the only thing allowing Mrs. Bennett and her daughters to stay in the house–Mr. Bennett is definitely a zombie. He died at home, and Mrs. Bennett decided that, no way were they dealing with this, and so…just started faking it. Jane and Elizabeth know. The younger sisters don’t.

In this universe, I think we have to go with zombies that are not any faster or stronger than the humans they were, and in fact tend to get weaker as time passes because their flesh is rotting. And…hmm, okay, how about they are pretty violent upon rising, and for about a week afterward, trying to bite people and spread the infection (even though most people are carriers anyway, but getting a nasty bite from a corpse will give you other stuff that will have you die while carrying the virus). But then they calm down and basically just start sort of attempting to act like they did in life, that is, taking habitual actions with no consciousness, in a depressing and desiccated way.

So Mr. Bennett is a zombie, and Mrs. Bennett’s number one goal is to get her daughters married before anyone finds that out. And this, actually, makes Elizabeth’s refusal of Mr. Collins more frustrating for Mrs. Bennett–obviously Mr. Bennett didn’t tell Elizabeth that she could refuse Mr. Collins, because Mr. Bennett is dead, but Mrs. Bennett can’t say anything or the game would be up.

Another question in this version–does Mr. Darcy find out about Mr. Bennett being a zombie somehow? Does Elizabeth find out that he knows and didn’t say anything and this is something that helps repair his earlier actions?

Anyway, this is the Pride and Prejudice and Zombies that I was looking for.

it makes me sad to see people dismissing jumin’s affection in the valentine’s day dlc just because he buys so many gifts. 

not everyone expresses their love solely through words or cuddles. sometimes people enjoy picking out items that they think others might like, and enjoy giving gifts as it’s their way of showing how much they care. gifts are not inherently bad, and not inherently a sign that your love is fake or inadequate. 

some people don’t like receiving gifts, and that’s okay! it’s also okay to give gifts if it’s a way to express your love and make others happy! 

disliking jumin’s valentine’s day ending is not the problem. disliking it because you think gifts automatically diminish his feelings is kinda missing the point. 

Forbidden Love | Pt. 8

▷ Jimin Angst

❥ “I think about you a little more than I should..”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Blinking your watery eyes a few times, you wiped away your newly formed tears as you smiled softly at your phone screen.

You were happy for him, you really were. Even though your heart was broken because of him, you were happy that he found a new, welcoming home.

Putting your phone away, you placed your hand on your belly and looked down at it with sad, teary eyes.

It was too late..

Few days ago

“Damn it, Jimin! Y/N can’t get pregnant!”

Ignoring Taehyung’s words, Jimin wrapped his arm under you legs and carried you bridal style.

“Jimin, can’t you hear what I’m saying?! The doctor said that there is no chance she could get pregnant! There is no chance that she’s pregna-”

“She’s pregnant, Taehyung! And there is a chance that you could be the father!”

Hearing Jimin’s words, Taehyung’s eyes opened widely and he looked at your lifeless looking body, only hearing your pleads as mumbles. “Please save my baby.. I’m begging you, I can’t loose my baby, please..”


With shaky hands, Taehyung opened your doctor’s office room door and stepped out of the room with his weak legs.

The minute Jimin saw him stepping out, he lunged forward to him and bombarded him with questions. “How is Y/N? Is the baby okay? Why aren’t the allowing us to see Y/N? Is she still sleeping? Damn it, answer me, Taehyung!”

Looking up from the floor, Taehyung connected his teary eyes with his best friend’s wide and concerned ones.

The second Jimin looked into Taehyung’s teary eyes, he started shaking his head hysterically. “N-No! Taehyung, no! Tell me they are okay, please! Taehyung, please!”

Seeing how his best friend tugged on his hair, Taehyung reached out for Jimin’s hands and stopped him. “Y/N is okay. B-But the baby.. T-The doctor said that they couldn’t save the baby…”

Unable to hold back their tears, they both started crying as they were leaning against the wall, ignoring the glances from other people.

When they calmed down a little bit, Taehyung turned his head to Jimin and observed his face. "Jimin.“

He watched how Jimin snapped out of his thoughts and turned his head weakly to his best friend. “Hm?”

Looking away, Taehyung took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something..”

When he felt Jimin’s expectant eyes looking at his face, Taehyung closed his eyes and said the words that made Jimin’s whole body freeze immediately.

“Your wife is pregnant.. and she told me that I’m the father..”

Yuri loves Otabek’s handwriting. It’s small, neat, and narrow cursive. He could stare at Otabek’s signature all day long. Yuri doesn’t have particularly bad handwriting, but he just wishes his could be as nice as Beka’s. So he practices in a notebook, and within five minutes he gives up because “it’s too hard” and “this is stupid anyway.”

Then, a really dumb idea pops into his head.

He remembers the stupid thing he would see dumb schoolgirls do in their notebooks; even Victor has done it. He begins to draw a heart and slowly write out “Yuri Altin”… “Otabek Plisetsky”… “Yuri Plisetsky-Altin”… “Otabek Altin-Plisetsky.” And he thinks about what he’s just done. And he starts laughing at how stupid he is. But he just carries on, coloring in the hearts.

Unfortunately, a certain someone interrupts him. Yuri quickly shuts his notebook and dashes away to Otabek’s side like nothing happened.

“Yuri, what was that about?”

“Nothing, nothing, don’t worry!”

Yeah, Otabek’s definitely checking that out later.

After a long practice, the event completely slips Yuri’s mind (and the homemade Kazakh dish Otabek made for dinner has definitely kept him occupied. Otabek makes his escape upstairs under that guise that he’s “just going to change.”

He feels bad that he’s infringing upon Yuri’s privacy… But what if it’s something important? With this new thought, he charges into the room and plops himself down at Yuri’s desk. He gingerly flips open the notebook.

Just some notes in Russian, science from the looks of it. He thumbs through it, coming away with nothing but a slight sense of disappointment.

Until he catches it.

A small heart, he thinks. He didn’t think Yuri would doodle anything other than cats and maybe caricatures of annoying teachers and rinkmates. Otabek finally locates the page. It has some neat, albeit a little jumbled cursive writing. He flips the page, and his heart skips a beat.

All over the page are variations of his and Yuri’s names. A fierce blush spreads over his face. The middle of the page seems quite empty, though. Otabek grabs a pen that has been haphazardly chucked onto the table, and fluidly outlines a medium sized heart in the middle. He writes out his name, and, and Yuri’s name, before drawing a little arrow through the heart.

“Maybe… Maybe I should throw this away. But, he’ll be suspicious if this page is gone. I… I guess… I’ll leave it.”

Before bounding down the stairs, Otabek remembers he had a fake reason for coming upstairs in the first place. That could’ve been awkward.

“Hey, Beka, I think I’m gonna go to bed for the night,” Yuri yawns.

“Oh–okay. Goodnight, Yura,” Otabek stutters.

“Uh, ‘night Beka.”

Yuri crashes into his bedroom, walking over to his desk to turn off the light before noticing his notebook and the unfamiliar drawing in it.

And that’s definitely not his writing.

He also definitely falls asleep with a smile spread across his face that night.

anonymous asked:

Writting Prompt: Danny cries in his sleep, sometimes really loud. And screams. Once he even transform while sleeping. The problem is, he start to doing it when he fall asleep in class. Hope it's good enough to write

angst oh god what is with this phandom and angst okay here’s ur angst with a heavy dose of weird millennial humour because this bitch can’t angst without a metric fuck of comedy sprinkled all over the place

also I’m sick and wrote half of this in the middle of the night while feverish so like, I did my best

“OKAY THIS IS FINE.” Danny said aloud to the floor. He didn’t really intend the floor to be the recipient of his ire but it was where his face was currently planted so it would just have to ding darn diddly deal with it.

Danny had experienced his fair share of being stuck in awkward positions but this one had rivalled many of his top ten, and he hadn’t even been thrown across a room by a ghost to achieve it! Nope, he just fell out of bed.

One arm was flung out before him, the other awkwardly pulled behind his back, still twisted up in his bedsheets, along with his leg. Just the one leg, the other was hanging - in quite a remarkable display of inhuman dexterity - over his shoulder.

All it took was some gut wrenching, heart stopping, bile inducing nightmares. Nothing fancy really, just the visceral image of everyone he loved and cared about DYING from TOO MUCH FIRE right in front of his eyes as he watched helplessly. Yep.

“THIS IS FINE.” Danny said again, a little louder this time. The carpet smelled like feet, Danny decided maybe he should take his eating hole off the gross floor before he caught a foot fungus on his lip. He knew it was possible, it happened to Ricky Marsh once at camp.

Yeah Danny should REEEAAAALLY get his face off that carpet. Right now, yep. He was gonna get up at this very mome-

Jazz heard a loud snore come from Danny’s bedroom. He was supposed to be up half an hour ago, school started in ten minutes. But she knew he had a plate piled high with superhero shenanigans that kept him up at obnoxiously late hours nine nights out of ten. The bags under his eyes could hold all the homework he never got done, with extra space for his unfinished chores.

Jazz was fully prepared to sneak in and firmly tuck him into bed with ghost proof sheets, a lie, an excuse and at least three compromises balanced on her tongue ready to jump at any parent and/or teacher that wanted her brother out of the warm sanctuary of bed today. Then she heard his gentle snores twist into a devastatingly soul crushing little whimper.

Oh boy, that wasn’t good.

Jazz opened her brother’s bedroom door and quietly peered inside to find… no one. He wasn’t there. Typical ghost bullshi-

Jazz had almost closed the door when she heard it again, that tiny little whimper. Was he invisible? She thought to herself, barely acknowledging how fucking weird her life had gotten that that question came so naturally to her.

Jazz padded into the room and found that Danny had, somehow, managed to fall asleep on the floor beside his bed. One leg still hanging in the air via blanket sling, it was almost funny, until he screamed that is.

Jazz nearly jumped out of her spotty blue socks when a noise ripped out of her sleeping brother’s throat, a noise that honestly could have come from the cutting room floor of a horror flick that was deemed too terrifyingly violent to be shown on screens literally anywhere. His back was arched, his mouth wide, hands curled in on themselves, he almost looked as though he were convulsing.

It stopped suddenly, with a gasp and a jolt Danny woke. He didn’t shoot up or flail about, he just laid down on the floor, eyes blearily noticing that there was another person in the room. Jazz sat down by his side as he wiped his face, staring at the tears on his hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Danny glared at her.

“Sorry, standard question.” Jazz mumbled as she unhooked his foot from the clinging bedsheets. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Danny, still laying on the floor, swung his right arm around, it had gone numb and tingly, the kind of numb and tingly that really hecking hurt when he started moving it again, yeesh.

“I had this really gnarly dream,” he started as he massaged his arm, Jazz listened intently. “I ordered a sandwich without mayo but when I bit into it there was mayo like, EVERYWHERE and-”

Jazz dropped a pillow on his face.

“That was rude.” Danny’s muffled voice grumbled.

“If you don’t want to talk about it you can just say so instead of being an asshole.” Jazz huffed as she found a pair of jeans and a shirt that were Clean Enough and threw them at the pillow. “You were crying and screaming, I was WORRIED.”

Danny pulled the pillow and clothes away and looked at his sister, actually looked her in the face. Her eyebrows were pulled tight and she was gnawing on her bottom lip, she really did look worried. Danny sat up and fished a somewhat pungent binder from under his bed, Pariah’s Oath he really needed to do his laundry.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” he stared down at his hands, face suspiciously neutral.

“Okay.” Jazz’s voice was gentle, she wasn’t going to push it, she’d learned a long time ago that it always just made things worse. “That’s okay, just know you can always talk to me, alright?”

Danny stood up and stretched, joints cracking and popping in a way that made Jazz want to barf. He could feel his arm again, thank the Ancients.

“You say that now, but every time a new rocket model comes out-”

“Bye Danny.” Jazz fucked off faster than Johnny’s shadow at dawn, absolutely Not wanting to stick around for another geeky space rant. Danny’s shit eating grin followed her out the door until it clicked shut, suddenly dropping back into the deadass tired face of a student who was entirely convinced that consistent sleep schedules were a myth.

He was not okay, ooooh he was so not okay.

Falling asleep again had been a mistake, a GRAVE mista- no okay, no, that pun was just inappropriate. He’d just had not one, but TWO disgustingly detailed nightmares about Literally Everyone dying, death puns were OFF the table right now.

Regular puns were still on the cards though, he thought to himself as he plopped his Little Pocket Book of Puns on top of a deck of cards sitting on his desk. He was proud of that one, in fact he snapchatted it, his smug face squeezed into the corner of the shot by the words ‘passng chem is off the cards bt my puns arnt’. It was easy to fool people with photos, he only had to pull off one good smile and people thought he was fine.

The flood of horrified snapchats he received in return made him giddy. Everything from a two minute video of Valerie trying not to hurl to a picture of Dash’s middle finger. Danny grinned, his grin looked genuine, it was not.

“This is fine.” he lied.

*RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING*

Danny barely made it through the door before the bell went off, he celebrated his victory with a very brief and offensively outdated dance move before Tucker threw a pen at his head and the teacher told him to sit down before he hurt himself.

Danny’s goofy grin remained plastered onto his face as he sat next to Tucker, who was giving him the kind of look that was usually reserved for the weird surrealist internet videos Nathan always tagged him in on Facebook.

“You are like…” Tucker started, fiddling with the broken nib of his stylus. “Super hyper today what the fu-”

“Language, Foley.” the homeroom teacher deadpanned from behind his book.

“Sorry sir! But seriously what the fuck dude.” Tucker continued at a still very perceptible volume. The teacher sighed heavily.

“It’s cool I’m fine I just got like two hours of sleep and drank five coffees in ten minutes I think I can hear colours.” Danny’s eye twitched.

Tucker didn’t laugh, Danny was trying to be funny but it was like, twelve year old funny. He sighed and lowered his voice.

“You’re having nightmares again aren’t you.” Tucker stared through Danny’s plastic grin with serious eyes. “We talked about this Danny, I told you to STOP faking this shit with me. You know what happens when you don’t get enough sleep, you get really fucking weird.”

“Did you get my snapchat this morning?” Danny asked as though he hadn’t heard a single word his best friend had just said.

“Yes, it was awful and I hate you.” The jab had no bite, Tucker couldn’t stand seeing Danny like this, it was like some awful parody of his friend amped up to eleven. He didn’t bother trying to talk sense into him, sense was gone, sense was out the window, sense was on the next plane to god damn Timbuktu.

Danny’s giddiness didn’t let up a single inch throughout their first couple of morning classes. He had stupid jokes and shitty puns hidden up every sleeve in the building, and the tiniest little thing would set him off giggling. Star smacked a fly with a ruler, Danny literally fell off his chair laughing.

Mr Lancer gave Tucker permission to drag Danny out into the hallway to calm down. Tucker grimaced in apology as he dragged along a snorting Danny by the sleeve, the rest of the class having a good laugh of their own.

“Do you think he’s like, actually on drugs or something?” Tucker heard Paulina whisper not even remotely quietly as they left the room.

The moment the classroom door had closed, Tucker slammed Danny against the wall.

“DUDE! GET. A. GRIP.” Tucker was not even in the general vicinity of fucking around right now. Danny needed to chill his tits before he got into serious trouble, the last thing he needed was a detention lumped on top of the pile of reasons Danny’s life was a train wreck.

Danny clenched his teeth, his eyes were wide, too wide. Then his mouth curled up and a laugh squeezed its way through taught lips. Oh no, not again. Not on Tucker’s watch. Before the next giggle fit could get into full swing Tucker had pulled out his drink bottle, uncapped it, and dumped the entirety of its contents on Danny’s stupid guffawing head.

A cough and a splutter later and Danny was sitting on the floor, the stupid grin officially washed from his face.

“Can we talk like actual human beings now?” Tucker asked, the plastic water bottle thudding emptily on the ground.

“I’m not an ‘actual human being’. So no. I can’t.” Danny’s voice was short and clipped, his expression stony.

Tucker slumped to the floor next to his best friend, ignoring the puddle he was half sitting in. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to Mr Lancer’s muffled voice droning on about adverbs or something. A squeak from someone’s shoe echoed down the empty hall. A fluorescent light flickered. Danny winced.

“You wanna borrow my earphones? I’ve got some chill tunes if you need to like, shut everything out for a bit.” Tucker held the tangled cords out to Danny who promptly stuck them in his ears and buried his face in his arms. It was all just, just too much right now.

He threw his hands over his ears when the bell rang, Tucker put a gentle arm around his shoulder.

“C'mon, it’s about to get really loud out here.” he said quietly, taking Danny by the arm and leading him to their next class. It was history, they were watching a movie. Perfect. Tucker rolled up his jacket and put it on the desk in front of Danny.

“Try and sleep a bit, if you can. You can copy my notes later.”

Tucker was a good friend.

Danny put his head down, Tucker’s chill playlist still thrumming softly in his ears. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to see everyone die again, but his eyes could barely stay open. He read somewhere online that just laying down and resting was still good for you, even if he didn’t sleep he could still get some energy back at least, maybe.

He was out like a light the moment his head hit Tucker’s jacket.

The dream was never the same. Every time it started as just a regular weird ass dream, he was at the Nasty Burger, but he was sitting at his kitchen table. His friends were there, so was some guy he’d never met, they were talking about monster trucks or… something. The guy he didn’t know was showing him a song he wrote, it was gentle and calm, Danny liked it.

That was when the Guys in White showed up. They’d been there before, but not every time. Danny remembered the last dream he had, vaguely, he didn’t know he was dreaming now, but he knew what was going to happen next.

“RUN!” he tried to scream, but his voice came out strangled and quiet. Sam and Tucker kept chatting, they couldn’t see the danger, the strange guy started playing a different song, he had an acoustic guitar now and was on a stage that wasn’t there before.

The Guys in White aimed their ectoguns, knocking off shots around the entire Nasty Burger, Valerie collapsed behind the counter, had she always been there? Jazz was next, she was reading a book on the lounge that had definitely been there the whole time. Danny kept trying to scream, but his throat just couldn’t make anything more than a strangled rasping noise.

Sam and Tucker collapsed before him, the music changed again, the guy on the stage had a smoking hole in his chest, he was playing a cello now. The music was calm, soft and gentle, it hadn’t stopped during the shooting. The GIW agent at the head of the group turned to Danny, face splitting into an evil grin, flaming hair licking at his temples, it wasn’t a GIW agent any more. It had never been a GIW agent.

Danny tried to transform, he needed to save them, they were dead but he NEEDED to save them, if he could go ghost, if he could change he could fix this. His core felt so far away, the cold chill within him just JUST out of his grasp. Why couldn’t he change? WHY COULDN’T HE CHANGE?

Tucker sat at his desk in the dark classroom, taking halfassed notes about… something something president Washington. Hadn’t they already covered this? A flash at the edge of his vision pulled his tired gaze over to the sleeping mess beside him. Danny made a noise, a whimper? It sounded like he was trying to say something.

“Ru… ru-” Danny muttered, voice broken and, oh god he sounded so terrified.

Tucker’s heart splintered into tiny little pieces, and those tiny pieces shattered until his heart was basically just a pile of powder, really sad and devastated powder. Concentrated melancholy, in powder form. He nudged Danny.

“Danny, Danny wake up. Dude you’re talking in your sleep, WAKE UP.” Tucker was super worried, like beyond overprotective mother worried, if Danny said something incriminating in his sleep, if he said something about PHANTOM-

“Gotta… go-” a strand of silver began to creep through Danny’s dark hair.

Oh fuck.

Tucker shook Danny as violently as he subtly could, he needed to wake up. He needed to wake the fuck up right the fuck right NOW. FUCK. It was panic time, shit was getting dangerously identity revealing up in here and Tucker had to do something about it.

More silver was weaving through Danny’s hair, flickers of a dark, skin tight costume appearing for only the briefest of anxiety inducing moments. They were sitting in the back corner of the room, no one had noticed that anything was wrong yet, but someone would. Someone would notice SOON if Tucker couldn’t get Danny to wAKE THE HECKING FUCK HELL UP.

“Danny I swear to god if you don’t wake up I’m going to kill the rest of you. WAKE. UP.” How was Tucker supposed to wake him up without drawing attention to- oh good lordy fucK HIS HAIR.

Tucker pulled Danny’s hood over his head as quickly as he could nearly half a second after a flash of white overtook his entire scalp. Had anyone noticed?? Tucker glanced around the room, nobody was looking, thank christ Wes wasn’t in this class.

Tucker tucked the white strands into the hood as best he could manage before texting Sam as fast as his fingers would allow.

Sam was in the middle of copying some crap about photosynthesis that she already knew when she felt her phone buzz. It was from Tucker, and if his spelling was anything to go by, he was in trouble.

'DIASTRACTION NOWm’

Sam got the gist.

Pretending she was about to vomit everywhere was an easy way out of the classroom, and from there it was just a quick run to the fire alarm. It wasn’t the first time Sam had pulled off a fake emergency, she smashed the glass and hit the button with no hesitation, fuck the consequences. From there she just had to figure out where Danny and Tucker were, they all had copies of each other’s classes in case of just such emergencies.

History, they had history. She knew which room that was.

Sam took off running, boots thundering through the crowds of students filtering out of their classrooms. Sam could barely hear the alarm over the sound of her heart beat thudding in her ears, she didn’t have time to panic and worry, something was wrong and the most important thing right now was finding out what it was and if her friends were okay.

Someone noticed her through the crowd though. As she smashed through a group of kids coming out of a maths class, one guy caught her gaze, one guy decided to follow. Jesus shit she did NOT have the time for this.

Sam detoured down a seperate hallway, the tall redhead on her tail easily keeping pace, why couldn’t he just mind his own god damn business for once and, you know what? Sam thought, FUCK IT.

Another detour into an empty classroom and she had him. Bursting through the door after her, Wes looked around fervently, expecting to find Danny in some kind of juicy compromising situation. What he got was a surprise boot to the gut and he hit the deck like a sack of bricks.

Sam didn’t waste a second before bolting from the room, Wes had already taken up enough of her precious time.

Wes coughed and wheezed and tried to drag a breath into his aching abdomen, she’d clocked him a damn heavy blow and his body was not cooperating until it had a good few moments to recover from Whatever The Fuck Just Happened.

Damn it he was so close!

“Alright everyone, out onto the parking lot, like we do literally every other week.” The history teacher droned, his voice dry. He didn’t even bother making sure everyone left the room before walking out himself, it was probably a ghost attack anyway. These things lost their sense of urgency after the last fifty billion times, the only reason he didn’t make everyone get back into their seats was for legal reasons and honestly, he could really use the smoke break.

Tucker made a show of getting up to leave, but once he and Danny were the only two left he immediately dropped his shit and whammo’d his fists down on Danny’s desk.

“WAKE UP!” He yelled as Sam slid haphazardly into the room, clocking her hip on the teacher’s desk as she failed to reign in her momentum. She struggled with her footing for a moment before catching herself and racing up to the back of the class.

“Is he okay? What’s happening??” she asked, breathlessly.

Tucker lifted the hood from Danny’s bright-ass silvery hair.

“He’s transforming in his sleep and I can’t get him to wake up.” Tucker rushed out in one breath before grabbing Danny by the shoulders. “WAKE. UP. WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!” Tucker screamed while shaking him with about as much tenderness as an irate Skulker on illegal performance enhancing ghost drugs. Finally, it was enough.

Danny jolted roughly, spasmed almost, and opened his fluorescent green eyes. Sam and Tucker took a quick step back in case he lashed out, but he didn’t. Danny’s hands gripped at the table hard enough to leave gouges in the sharpie-graffiti stained surface as his breath came out laboured and rasping. Tears smeared across his cheeks and dripped from his nose and chin.

He blinked, hard, before finally raising his head from the desk, looking remarkably disoriented. He was still flickering in and out of ghost form, disappearing from view entirely a few times as well, but it was slowing down as he took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Soon enough he was calm enough to stick to one form, human fortunately.

Sam breathed out a sigh and sat heavily on the nearest chair. He was okay and god she needed to sit down and catch the breath she’d left behind in science class.

Tucker sat beside Danny - who was now vigorously rubbing at his face - and took back his earphones, Sam could hear something that sounded like a cello playing through the small speakers

Tucker got through maybe the first two syllables of the standard 'are you okay?’ when he was abruptly cut off by a mildly lisping giggle.

Wes stood half through the doorway, phone out and trained on Danny’s previously unstable form. He looked a little pale and seemed to be having trouble breathing but that didn’t stop a wide shit eating grin from stretching across his freckled cheeks.

“Gotcha.” he sneered before turning on his heel and fleeing in unbridled glee.

Sam had recovered quickly from her previous run, she was on him like the Box Ghost on a roll of bubble wrap. Tucker heard the pounding of two sets of feet followed by a loud THUD, a squeal, and then what sounded suspiciously like a phone being heavily stomped on by a very firmly placed boot. The groaning came after that, punctuated with some extremely foul language that may have been spluttered through a bleeding nose and/or lip.

Sam came back into the room with a crushed phone in one hand and bloody knuckles on the other. She wasn’t dicking around, not today.

“You okay Danny?” she asked, getting only a tired glare in response. “Sorry, standard question.”

Sam picked up Danny’s backpack and put her hand out for him to take, he grasped it gratefully and she pulled him up from his chair as Tucker wound an arm around his waist. With the support of the two actual greatest people in the whole damn world, Danny walked out of the school and into the parking lot where an exasperated principal Ishiyama was counting heads and calling names.

“Equal Rites! What were you three still doing inside? Get into your- Mr Fenton are you alright?” Mr Lancer’s angry stride softened into a quick jog, concern weaving it’s way through his face at the sight of Danny’s red eyes and wet cheeks.

“He uh, had a head on collision with Wes on our way out.” said Sam, like a liar. “Took a corner too fast and copped a hit to the nose so his eyes got all teary, but he’s okay.”

“Wes might need a little help though.” Tucker added on. “We offered but he’s pretty much convinced we just rammed him on purpose and he threatened to tell everyone we beat him up sooo we kinda just left him on the floor.”

Lancer rubbed at his brow, exasperated. He did NOT have the time for Wes shenanigans. He took a quick look at Danny’s face, checking for any bleeding, satisfied when he could find none he sent the three on their way to get their names marked off before he headed back to the school building to find Wes.

“Thanks.” Danny squeezed Sam and Tucker tenderly, never wanting to let them go. He was so glad they were here, he was so glad they were alive.

“Sleepover at my place tonight.” Tucker declared. “No exceptions, there’s gonna be cuddle piles and maybe a pillow fort, but definitely lots of these.” he gave Danny a big ol’ smooch on the forehead and pulled him in for a tight hug. “You’re gonna be fine man, you’ll be okay.”

Sam jumped on and threw her arms around both her boys, pressing her lips against Danny’s cheek.

“We’re not going anywhere, okay? We’re gonna sleep right beside you and tell those fucking nightmares to fuck right off, just like last time.” Sam gave him a hearty thump on the back that might have knocked over a regular human, but Danny barely shifted.

What in Ring and Crown’s name did he ever do to deserve these two.

That night after a coma inducing amount of junk food and soft drink Danny passed out smushed between Sam and Tuck in what was pretty much the most affectionate and down right adorable Danny Sandwich either of them had ever made.

He dreamed of the three of them beating the shit out of Dan with Fenton Anti-Creep Sticks. He hadn’t slept so well in years.

anonymous asked:

When Alexander finds out he tries to leave Jefferson, but out of his lustful carving and rage Jefferson will not let Alex go so easily. (I have a but of belief in this au that Jefferson is a bit of a psychotic asshole who thinks of Alex like property or his playtoy, and Alex doesnt know any bettet but to love him back as though he is Laf)

Ham’s worst nightmare.

thatkevinsmith: Aw, Kraptonite! It’s all over! Finished my second episode of @supergirlcw at 11:30 last night with these cosplaying characters. Thank you @davidharewood, @melissabenoist & @chy_leigh - the heart, soul and spine of this wonderful weekly hour on @thecw - as well as the rest of the cast and the entire #vancouver crew! If you can’t tell, I love “directing” the @dccomics shows in the #berlantiverse. Doing so has made me a stronger film-maker while allowing me to play with someone else’s toys and IP. But it also provides nice cover for me in my day job so I can make masturbatory movies like @tuskthemovie & @yogahosers. Some indie filmmakers in the 90’s used to work under a “One for me, One for them” philosophy - the idea being you work with a studio on something they own then jump back into the freedom of no-budget filmmaking afterwards (Soderbergh popularized this approach). Directing #supergirl and @cwtheflash is kinda like a modern-day version of that for me on one level: the three well-received eps I handled that people have seen thus far clearly indicate I know how to direct and can color within the lines when it’s necessary. But my bat-shit crazy Canadian flicks (the #truenorthtrilogy) allow me to color my flicks any way I want, all artsy or stupid - which has resulted in a few baffled or hostile reactions and calls for my DGA card to be confiscated. So in a way, #supergirl has actually saved my fat ass IRL: working with this show lets me be considered “good” at directing for others while I’m so busy trying to be “bad” at directing my own material (though I like to think the flicks are more experimental than “bad”). Just another reason I love shooting shit with the folks in the photo above: by helping them be fake people, they help me be the real me. Never be scared to make what YOU want to see, Kids - but if you’re gonna get goofy with your personal work, it’s a good idea to simultaneously show folks you’re not really an idiot - you’re just trying out new stuff. Fortune favors the bold! #KevinSmith #supergirlseason2 #melissabenoist #davidharewood #chylerleigh

the vagabond getting flustered as all hell whenever he’s accused of a crime he didn’t actually do. ( for once. )

a story comes on the news about a recent attack on an armored truck in fake ah territory. everyone looks at ryan, who gives them all an utterly baffled look.

“i — didn’t, though. i mean, i - i don’t think i did. did i? no, no, that one wasn’t me. i think. yeah.”

another news story about a bizarre string of murders, carried out by flare gun. everyone looks at ryan.

“oh yeah that was totally me.”

People desperately want Cole to be a bad person and I don’t know why

He called black people “cannibals”?? 

I’m sure most of you band wagon haters don’t even know WHERE this claim come from (hence me calling you band wagons) so let me help. 

You all need to STOP twisting his words. When he tweeted this it wasn’t a BLM movement. In fact I remember the march and it had NOTHING to do with BLM nor was it against Bernie. One of the people in charge of the march said that the only reason they marched while Bernie was campaigning was because they knew there’d be cameras around and they just wanted to get air time for their cause. Regardless numerous people were hurt because of their actions; namely children were hurt, which was AWFUL. Regardless of what your cause is you have no right to march in anywhere and injure children for whatever reason. So YES that was Cannibalism and no it was not a BLM movement. 




Cole has shown his support MULTIPLE times for the BLM movement and has said multiple times that saying being pro BLM doesn’t mean you’re saying that all lives don’t matter.



“hE ABUSED HIS EX”

Bitch where? Were you a part of the relationship? Can you even find the so called tumblr post that she supposedly said this? Some of y’all know NOTHING about this. You just hear it from the grapevine and jump ship like brainless followers. 

Why would you think it’s okay to hold Cole accountable for something a possibly bitter ex wrote on tumblr??? DO you realize how serious it is to just label someone an “abuser”. That’s not a fucking joke and not something you should throw around just because you heard it from this twitter page you follow. 

I’m a creative fucker and I could literally sit here and write a whole essay on how your dad, or your bother or Usher or some random person abused me but it’ll be all FALSE. Writing it on social media doesn’t make it true. Y'all need to stop acting so foolish and gullible.

You know what’s interesting and paradoxical? While the court never believes abuse victims, social media believes them too much. There’s no balance. Victim shaming is real and unfortunate but let’s not act like SOMETIMES they are not telling the truth.  

How many cases have there been where the *white* woman admits years later that she was inherently lying about being abused years ago. 

So I’m sorry if I’m not going to sit on my my ass and judge some one based on some random crap I heard online. 

For all we know Cole probably converted her from Lays to Doritos and she’s calling that emotional abuse.


You people just like to take one small thing a celeb says, twist it to make them look bad (WITHOUT DOING YOU RESEARCH EVEN THOUGH GOOGLE IS FREE) and then everyone just jumps on the bandwagon. You are all jobless, pathetic, hateful people. You’re BULLIES; you think you’re being these great millennials but you’re just lying bullies. You pull this crap on all these celebrities and tarnish their image as if its as normal and easy as breathing. Its not fair and its not right. I can’t even imaging being a celeb and having to deal with all this crap; half of y’all wouldn’t last a day with your thin skin and fake woke ass. 

I am sick of the tumblr/social media expectation that celebrities are supposed to be your idea of “woke” or that makes them a bad person. News flash: there’s a real world out there where people are living real lives. No one has time to search all over tumblr to find out the right way to say this or that. 

At the end of the day WE ALL say things that can be taken the wrong way. Its not because we’re trying to be mean, we mean well, we just don’t know any better because NOT EVERYONE KNOWS EVERYTHING AND NO ONES PERFECT. (<- @ all you people calling Lili Reinhart “homophobic” when she’s continually shown her support for the LGBTQ community)


There’s just this cumulative desperation I’ve noticed in the tumblr society where you all try to take who a celebrity is an twist it to fit into what you want them to be. 

They say one thing that gets distorted and all of a sudden you all think you have the right or the power to erase all the good they’ve done and label them bad people. I’m so sick of it. 

GET OFF your high horses because NONE of you people are perfect. And I’m sure there are multiple things you say in just one day that someone somewhere in this world would take the wrong way and deem YOU to be a shitty person.  

At the rate you are all going ALL celebrities are shitty people. Heck WE ARE ALL SHITTY people. 

3

I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THIS.

So I was doing an economics course which required you to create your own fake company.. and I found these.. someone named their firm CLEXA and CLARKE GRIFFIN and ALYCIA ADC CLAN and LUTHOR (btw “studio commercialista” is italian for “accounting firm”)

GUYYYSSSSS..I FOUND A GAY™   im so excited about this cuz I never had a friend who shares my passion for these shows and characters..

I NEED TO FIND OUT WHO THEY ARE.. I don’t know how though.. in my school there are like.. 800 people 😭

All the broken hearts in the world still beat

Summary: Stiles totally needs to make Lydia Martin jealous. Yeah. And his best chance is to convince star lacrosse player Derek Hale to (fake) date him.

Notes: Just a silly high school AU! (On AO3)


Even though he was expecting the answer, it still hurts. He guesses that somewhere, deep down, he was still holding on to hope. But it hadn’t even been Lydia’s zero-hesitation no that had really been painful. It was what she’d said next.

“You’re just not desirable at all. If you can’t get anybody else in this school, what makes you think you can get me?” she’d said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And I have a boyfriend, anyway.”

Then she’d walked away, leaving Stiles staring after her, feeling like he’d been stepped on. But little did she know: adversity just made him more determined. He was going to prove her wrong.

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kazliin  asked:

Lily, you know what I'm going to ask ;) Because that Viktuuri Eurovision commentator/contestant AU is something the world needs to see

guess who has two thumbs and no sense of self-preservation? IT’S ME

so basically kaz and i were talking about eurovision and then i had this sudden thought of a fake rivals-verse fic idea where yuuri’s an exasperated commentator who’s suddenly been forced to host esc and viktor’s the winning contestant from last year who is co-hosting with him and…. because this is rivals-verse, yuuri hated viktor’s entry last year. hoo boy. 


Love Love, Peace Peace

Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov to Co-host 2016 Eurovision Song Contest in Saint Petersburg
Beloved TV commentator Yuuri Katsuki, known for his sharp and witty commentary during previous contests, and 2015 ESC winner Viktor Nikiforov will be co-hosting the 2016 Eurovision Song Contest in Saint Petersburg, Russia. This year’s theme will be “Making History” and will be held at the Alexei Panin Arena from 11-15 May. 

Nikiforov won last year with his stunning ballad “Stay Close to Me”, featuring a figure skating segment halfway through the song… (more)


Yuuri clicks out of the article with a groan and takes a sip of his coffee, waiting for his new co-host to arrive. The office is a busy drone in the background, with only the sounds of ringing phones and beeping machines filling the silence. He checks his mobile. Nikiforov is late.

Typical.

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