i think this is fake though

BTS Reaction: He Scares You and You React by Hitting Him

Anonymous said:

“I’m always seeing they ‘How BTS reacts to scaring their S/O with a prank and making them cry’. I’m after something a little different. How would BTS react to trying to scare their fairly strong S/O with a prank, but rather than scream or cry in fear, their S/O’s instinct is to immediately punch the thing that startled them before they even realize what’s going on? Like…*jump* MWAHAH-*gets punched in the face* "OMG I’M SORRY I HIT YOU ARE YOU OKAY?!?!” That sort of deal. xD"

Haha, I love this idea. Hope you enjoy! 😘


Jin:

You open the bathroom door, Jin standing right outside like a creep. You yelp and your immediate reaction is to strike out. Your knuckles connect with his cheek, hard, making his head snap back. You gasp, your hands coming up to cover your mouth in horror.

He stares at you, wide-eyed, a bruise already forming.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper from behind your hands.

“How can you bruise this handsome face?” He asks indignantly.

Your hands drop from your mouth as you scoff. You go to the kitchen for ice, but his words took away post of your pity.

Originally posted by seoulsoul7

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I Wanted It to be Real

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

I’ve been through a breakup once before, with Agatha. It was right at the beginning of the school year, when she said she thought we loved each other as friends, not as something else. I didn’t have to think about the way I should react at the time, how upset I should be, what I should say, because I’d already known for years that we were going to be endgame.

It turned out I was wrong.

I don’t have to think about it now, even though I should. I haven’t done this before, breaking up with someone over a fight, going back to hating someone I should have hated all along. It’s not hard, acting like I’m mad at Baz. It’s not the first time.

Penny is unusually quiet when I tell her about the fake breakup. Agatha rushes to console me, offering hugs and extra dessert and a shoulder to cry on if I want it. I have to keep reminding her that we were never really dating, and the breakup was staged, so of course I don’t need any of those things.

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ryden-the-pony  asked:

I've been very distant from the Ryan fandom as of late. I knew sooner or later I would fall out of this fandom. But it's very scary to leave something I've been so involved in for over 6 years. Ryan and his music helped me through my awkward teen years but now that I'm older, I guess I don't need it as much? I'm afraid to leave the fandom for good. I used to see people grow out of the fandom and think they were posers and weren't real fans to begin with. But now I can see myself doing it.

I dropped out of the fandom for a few years so I understand where you’re coming from, it’s weird to think about doing but for me it felt natural at the time. You’re definitely not a fake fan for evolving out of something. Not all of our interests will fit with the phases of life we’re in, I guess? I’m glad Ryan helped you through your teen years though, he did for me too :)

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.
IT’S GETTING KINDA HOT IN HERE

*I wrote this with the sun and mars signs in mind*

Aries: It was a cool summer night. “You’re crazy.” I said as you pulled me towards an abandoned building. “Don’t be scared, I just wanna check it out.” We wandered through the decaying concrete, graffiti on every wall possible. I was so scared but I was trying hard not to lose my cool. After all you were absolutely loving this. There was a loud creak and I jumped, grabbing your arm. “Babe calm down, look at me.” You said soothingly, rubbing my shoulders. We made out there in the middle of the building; in the middle of the night. Your kisses enthralling, and for a moment I forgot about everything else. The creak came again but louder, “Okay, fuck this.” You laughed, grabbing my hand and we ran as fast as we could out of there and into the summer air.

Taurus: It was pitch black, our kisses growing more urgent as you fumbled around trying to undo my buttons. “I can’t see anything.” you chuckled. I sparked my lighter and you looked around for a candle, finding one and lighting it with my flame; never taking your eyes off me. You undid my pants quickly with a smirk on your face and threw them dramatically across the room. Your lips finding mine again, making up for the loss of contact. “You are so fucking hot” you whispered, running your hands down my body, a trace of goosebumps forming on my skin. You pushed in slowly, moaning as you felt my heat. You buried your face in my hair I lost all focus. I just held on for dear life as the candlelight flickered erratically on the ceiling.

Gemini: Your bedroom was covered with so many posters I couldn’t see what colour it was painted. You had not one, but two lava lamps, one purple and one orange. We were laying on your floor, listening to Frank Ocean on vinyl, “Sometimes I think about faking my own death, and leaving the parts I don’t like about myself behind.” you said somberly, drawing lazy circles on my stomach with your finger. “Where would you go?” I asked. You propped your head up, your adorable face flushed purple in the light from the lamp. “Anywhere but here,” you said pulling me even closer, “only as long as I could take you with me though.” I ran my finger across your bottom lip and you bit it, we giggled quietly, then sighed. You kissed me so deeply, like an ocean tide that ebbs and flows. We made love, slow love right there on your bedroom floor. Every now and then, when things are quiet, parts of that night come back in flashes when I close my eyes.

Cancer: Snow had been coming down like crazy all day and everybody was staying inside. We had made the heroic journey to the store to get the bare necessities. Popcorn, paprika Pringles and those fruity toffees. Now we were cuddled in an abundance of duvets and pillows watching Spirited Away. “Are you cold?” you asked softly. “No I’m actually really warm.” I said adjusting the pillows behind me. Your eyes shot around the room, you bit your lip as your gaze landed on me. “What?” I asked when I noticed you staring. You grinned, “I’m kinda cold.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I lifted my blanket and pulled you into my cocoon. Your hand slipped under my shirt as you got comfortable. “Oh my god, your hand is freezing.” I shrieked. “Warm me up then.” you teased as you kissed me gently.

Leo: “You are such a goddamn hypocrite, why are you being so possessive?” I yelled at you. “Because I fucking love you!” you screamed even louder. My eyes shot wide as the words left your mouth. I felt like I was about to faint. Like everything I’d known for the past two months had been wrong. I put my hand on my forehead and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Since when?” I asked warily. You sat down next to me, leaving a little space between us, not wanting to scare me away. “Since the day I met you.” you said more gently. I shook my head in confusion. All these months I’d been crushing on you, telling myself I was a fool for thinking you could ever feel the same. “Look, I should go.” you said standing up, I grabbed your arm quickly and pulled you to me. I kissed you with my eyes open, I didn’t believe it but my eyes couldn’t lie. You picked me up and put me in your lap. “We can’t do this.” I whispered into your neck. You grabbed me even tighter, not ready to let me go. “Tell me to stop,” you breathed kissing down my collarbone, your finger toying with the band of my panties, “just tell me to stop.” Your eyes searched mine for an answer. Your finger inching further, grazing down the lace in front. I moaned into your mouth, giving you the answer you needed. The one we both needed.

Virgo: My phone buzzed next to my laptop. It was almost midnight and my chemistry notes were making less sense than ever. “Hi baby.” I half sighed as I answered. “Where are you?” you asked. “On my bed, what’s up?” I could hear your breathing through the phone, “Nothing, just thinkin’ about you. ‘Bout us.” you said cheekily. I closed my eyes as that familiar lightness hit my stomach. “Oh really, what are we doing?” I teased. You half groaned on the other line, “Thinking about your skin, running my tongue up your spine, and swirling it around your-” Now I was the one who moaned. “Can you come pick me up?” I panted. You laughed, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Libra: It was my first birthday in the new city and I was feeling more homesick than ever. You knocked on my door and told me to get dressed while you poured two shots of tequila. You took me on an adventure, stumbling through a regal museum slightly tipsy. I was laughing at this modern piece, you asked why I didn’t get it, I said the shape was a bit funky. From behind you wrapped your arms around my waist, pressing yourself up against me, “I think it’s a quite stimulating.” you whispered with a sly grin, and my entire body shivered. Then you took me to dinner, your eyes staring into mine the whole time and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. It was like moving between worlds, reality changing from hour to hour. I don’t even remember what we talked about, only what I was feeling. We couldn’t even last until desert, our minds running away from us. As soon as I opened the door to my place your lips crashed onto mine, and for the first time that night I felt like I could breathe.

Scorpio: “Do you wanna wrestle?” I asked you with a wicked grin on my face. “I’m not gonna wrestle you.” You said not taking your eyes of the TV. I jumped on you and the Xbox controller went flying. “You asked for it.” You growled as you started fighting me back. I knew I had no chance, I just wanted to get you all fired up. Before I knew it I was on my back, hands pinned down above my head and your strong thighs straddling my torso. “Who’s the winner?” you demanded. “You’re the winner daddy.” I purred, reaching up and biting your lip. Your expression shifted, your eyes going from that watery blue to devilish dark in a split second, and I knew I was in for a ride.

Sagittarius: It was 3 a.m. I knew I had school in the morning but at this point I didn’t care. Cruising around the city in your parents BMW, the bass in the sound system making our blood vibrate. Like it hadn’t been already. We didn’t say anything, we couldn’t. We couldn’t afford to lose control. Then L$D by A$AP Rocky came on. My hands were shaking in my lap, your knuckles white from squeezing the steering wheel so hard. The engine purred as you drove faster, now with a purpose, pulling into the beach parking lot. The car came to an abrupt stop and I couldn’t take this any longer. You moved your seat back as I jumped over the console. You kissed me like you were drowning and I was air. All that tension finally snapping like firecrackers as the music pumped through our bodies. Your strong arms lifted me up and pushed my dress up my thighs, the windows fogging up. I could feel your biceps trembling under the palm of my hand, and thought how could something that felt so right be so wrong?

Capricorn: The whole day had had a weird, electrifying feel to it. Now I knew why. We were standing out there on the balcony, face to face in the middle of the crowd. “Kiss me.” you said nonchalantly. “You kiss me.” I incited. You took a long drag of the joint, gently pressing your lips to mine as you blew the smoke into my mouth. I just stared back at you, blowing the smoke out again calmly, your fingers still caressing the back of my neck. You almost smiled but stopped it midway by biting your lip. I grabbed your shirt and pulled you to me. I kissed you like it was the last time. You pulled back slightly to catch your breath, “Wanna get out of here?”

Aquarius: The night I first met you. I didn’t wanna go out but my friends convinced me. The bar was so packed but somehow I got to the front of the stage. There you were, and that cherry red guitar, in your own world. I remember I couldn’t take my eyes of your fingers when you played. I didn’t even notice you were looking at me until the song was over. You laughed and playfully tugged on your shirt. I didn’t get why but then I noticed we were both wearing the same Led Zeppelin shirt. When the show was over you found me so quickly I knew you had been watching me. “I feel like this was meant to be.” you said leaning up against the bar. I took you in, your knuckles had little cuts on them and your black jeans were splattered with green paint. “I’m not really in the mood to make friends tonight.” I said, taking a sip of my beer. You ran your hand teasingly through that dirty blonde DiCaprio hair, “How ‘bout we just stay strangers then?” I knew I’d already lost this fight. The next thing I remember is literally falling into your foyer, your lips on my neck as I moaned in your ear. You held me so tight, pulling my shirt up ever so slightly just to put your skin on mine. I pushed you down, taking my shirt all they way off while I straddled your hips, and you looked at me like I had just discovered fire. When it was all over you grabbed my face with both your hands, “What’s your name?” you breathed. I smirked as I put my clothes back on, “I thought we were gonna stay strangers.” I was halfway home when I realized that the shirt I was wearing wasn’t mine, it was yours.

Pisces: The record had finished all the way through. That needle scratch sound from the record player filled the silence in the room. I was in your arms, tangled in bedsheets and your sticky bodyparts. You grazing my back lightly with your fingers. “I need to pee.” I said trying untangle myself limb by limb. Your arms tightened around me, “No, you can’t go.” you pouted. I giggled and wiggled around in your embrace. “I have to pee, I’ll be quick.” You pressed your forehead against mine. “Promise?” you said softly. I pecked your lips three times. “I promise.”

And… the stunt has been pulled. 

Two weeks ago, the opposition organized a national inquiry to find out how many people disapproved of what the government was trying to do (rewriting the constitution). The result was that 7M people voted in it, including Venezuelans all over the world, and said they rejected this completely.

Today, the “elections of the writers of the new constitution” were held, without having done the mandator inquiry the government was LEGALLY BOUND to hold first, to make sure that people wanted the constitution to be rewritten. The result? 8M voters, they said.

It sounds bad, right?

Only, it’s worse than you think.

Those 8M votes they claim they obtained are fake. False. Forged through every possible cheating process you can think of. As examples:

Dead people were signed up as current voters, despite having been inactive voters for YEARS.

People who hadn’t voted yet found that they apparently had already voted and the system refused to let them do it (their choice was made for them, basically).

Some people were actually going to vote, but there was nobody in the electoral centers. Not a soul. They couldn’t do anything.

There is ACTUAL FOOTAGE of people who got bribed through food into voting.

There are a gazillion reports of threats from the government to all state workers to not only vote in these elections, but to bring 9 other people with them so that they could have all the votes they wanted.

Also, some people were protesting against the process: 17 people were killed in a single day for not wanting this dictatorship.

So, turns out that when you take all this into consideration, you realize those 8M votes are actually sketchy as hell. But if we want to see something even better, the contrast between a 7M inquiry and 8M election is as follows:

Here we have a picture from 2 weeks ago, 7M inquiry:

This was the line today, around the same area, 8M for elections:

And this didn’t just happen in a single, isolated location. No, it happened everywhere. The vast majority stood their ground, workers didn’t vote despite all the threats… and yet these guys miraculously found 8 million votes?

Simply put, it’s the proof nobody else needed anymore of how rigged the system is. But it’s tragic, and dangerous, because of what they’re likely to do with these fake results. There seriously is no telling what they’ll do if they keep pushing their tampered results as what really happened.

I keep saying pessimistic things about how I don’t know what will happen and if I’ll still be able to be as leisurely and happy online as I usually am. This though… it’s an actual dictatorship, in the flesh. It’s autocracy. They’re not holding back at all. And if they keep limiting our freedom… well, who knows what might happen eventually. I do hope things finally will blow over and this nightmare will end, but after 19 years of veiled tyranny it’s hard to actually believe this country can be fixed that easily.

Anyways… just letting you all know what the truth is, in case anyone hears about the 8 million voters and thinks it’s a real thing. It’s absolutely, utterly fake and there’s a ton of proof of it if you know who to ask. 

Thanks for reading and caring, to all those of you who have. I hope there really may be a light at the end of this unreasonably endless tunnel.

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.”

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please read the entire fic this was based on, it’s so good, i’m gonna cry

this was more or less an animation test of sorts though im not sure i used the right sfx half the time

still! i wanted to see if fake game sims were possible and i think i managed though i cant get the screen jiggly thing right >:(

Just a piece of the past now

A fact should be mentioned is how Kaneki was always admiring Touka through different perspectives.

First, as a pure human who has never known her very well to begin with.

Well Kaneki, here is the first thing you wouldn’t have known yet, that you won’t fall in love with the customer, but with this lovely barista. ❤️

Then again, even after knowing she is a ghoul, saw her fight, and he himself became half ghoul and knew what kind of life she is living still this image of Touka won’t change.

Once more, after losing his memories and his old life, after building a whole new identity with several relationships and a decent job, fully satisfied and does not seek any other relationship, yet he found her beautiful.

I really liked this question “What are those eyes seeing?”. I like that it could be interpreted by two ways:

- Either Kaneki is asking himself about what Touka’s eyes are seeing? what’s this nostalgic feeling made you show this expression Touka?

- Or it’s Kaneki’s eyes when he saw Touka, what flashes your memory Kaneki? What are you seeing in Touka made you think of your past?

And what is the result? That longing feeling which made him keep returning every once in a while.

Stealing glances secretly, but you failed at this sweet Kaneki we all know that 😉

Even when you were not visiting, your mind would be absent thinking about her.

Note that he -as Sasaki- connected her to the people Kaneki knew, so it’s a high chance that she too is a ghoul, and you are an investigator Sasaki…. I really liked Ishida-sensei showing Sasaki’s longing in one of the happiest chapters, he still can’t ignore that part of him even though he was so scared.

No matter how many realty or fake identity you’ll live in Kaneki. No matter what is your kind. No matter what your relationship with her is (customer/barista, trainee/coach, friends, just a stranger),you will always choose her.

'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.

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.

if i ever create a piece of media that gets popular enough for mat “this cartoon fish doesn’t show the exact symptoms of short term memory loss consistently during this two hour movie so she’s faking it and manipulating everyone” pat to make a video on it, i would do everything in my power to make what he says in the video not possibly canon, though, i don’t think that should be too hard

“Thanks, Maggie. Love you,” Dex says, and Nursey’s heart stops beating for a moment. His lungs refuse to inhale or exhale. The muscles in his legs forget that they are holding up an actual person.

Then Dex’s eyes catch his, going wide at the interruption, and Nursey somehow finds it in himself to pretend that everything is exactly the same now as it was thirty seconds ago.

He looks away and heads for the fridge, his limbs remembering themselves once more.

“Hey, uh, sorry, I gotta go. Can I call you back?” Dex says into his cell phone on the other side of the Haus kitchen.

Nursey rummages through several pounds of butter in search of something edible. He silently repeats to himself his old mantra from Andover, from when he could barely see straight for the tears welling up in his eyes at every backhanded remark or micro-aggression. The mantra he used to train his emotions not to show themselves at every turn, the way they had done with abandon throughout his childhood.

“Write it down instead,” his sister suggested, when he confided to her his inability to keep things bottled up. And, after a time, that strategy seemed to work.

Write it down instead, he still tells himself now, at the end of his Sophomore year at Samwell, whenever the world becomes too much, whenever he feels suddenly as though his façade of always okay always fine always chill isn’t strong enough to handle the current situation.

Nursey begins to silently run through the words again in his head now, trying very hard not to analyze why he needs to.

“Um, so. How much of that did you hear?” Dex asks him, and luckily Nursey’s got his head buried so far into the freezer that he doesn’t have to cover his pained grimace.

“Not much, man, don’t worry about it. Hey, you think Bitty would murder us if we used his new oven for store-brand taquitos?”

He barely hears Dex’s reply, though, too busy faking normalcy. Too busy wondering who it was on the other end of Dex’s phone call that got to hear the words “I love you” from the guy, and so casually offered up that Dex must say it to her daily.

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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.

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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!”

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Let Me Show You Why

Thank you @joeynihil for letting me use the Cody gif :D

Summery: Brett goes out of his way to make you blush or shy but he goes too far.

Warnings: sex, 18+ gif under cut


“Brett’s coming?” You asked when your friend finished listing off the people she’d invited.

“It’s a party to celebrate the team winning all their games so far… why wouldn’t I invite Brett?” She asked, glancing at you in the mirror as she put her makeup on, frowning when she looked over the jeans and t-shirt you were wearing.

“Well… because he’s kind of a jerk.” You mumbled, playing with your fingers as you scuffed your feet on the foot of her bed.

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8

And all your little lame-ass friends are gonna be Kibbles ‘n Bits. Think about that when your boyfriend’s cuttin’ into you.

     Alright, so, time for a post about some concerning stuff I’ve noticed in the mental health community on tumblr– namely, the culture surrounding diagnosis.

     People on here seem to think that there are two options- either you’re self-diagnosed or you have an official diagnosis on record. And lots of people treat it like people are faking if they don’t have a diagnosis on record (which, let’s be real, there’s no way to tell whether or not people have a diagnosis or not, we’re on the internet, people can say whatever they want).

     Here’s the thing though- that’s not how diagnosis works. There are plenty of reasons why mental health professionals won’t put a diagnosis on record. Sometimes they want to protect the patient from stigma surrounding the diagnosis. Sometimes there may be an issue with insurance related to that diagnosis. Sometimes they simply don’t think that a diagnosis would be useful.
     (Also, with teenagers in particular, many psychiatrists hesitate to diagnose certain disorders like BPD, for example, because that can sometimes be confused with the mood swings and interpersonal drama normal for teenagers, and a BPD diagnosis might actually encourage the teen to develop more unhealthy behaviors because they’re using the diagnosis as an identity. They will, however, recommend the patients learn DBT skills, and possibly note that they have BPD traits)

     Regardless of the reason, it’s important to remember that the purpose of a diagnosis isn’t to validate the patient’s experience. A diagnosis is not meant for the patient, it’s meant for the doctors, to provide an easy shorthand for what symptoms the patient is experiencing, and what possible treatment options are.

     Essentially, if you are looking for a diagnosis so you can feel valid, you’re misunderstanding the purpose of a diagnosis. Instead of looking for a diagnosis, you should be looking for treatment. During the course of that treatment, you might be diagnosed, and you might not.

TL;DR: Diagnosis isn’t as simple as self-diagnosed vs an “official diagnosis”, there are lots of reasons why a diagnosis might not go on record, and people should be seeking treatment for their symptoms, not seeking a particular diagnosis.

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

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.