i'm on the floor right now

2

time to dance // panic! at the disco

5

So I got to a certain chapter in Blue Sky….

2

“The floor beyond the stage is FILLED with people – among them Mia, beaming with pride. Sebastian smiles to her. Mia grins right back, heart swelling. This is the Echo, the first headline show for Keith’s band – yet right now, it’s as if Mia and Sebastian were the only two people here, echoing the spotlit fantasy when she first watched him play...

- la la land screenplay, by damien chazelle

I’m forcing my roomate to watch leverage and it’s great. She just had a head cannon though. its wonderful.

We’re watching the runway job right now and Parker turns around and has these fabulously French braided hair. But Parker doesn’t strike me as the type that would take time with her hair in the morning.

But! But! As the fandom has previously established, Eliot is. So can you imagine Parker sitting herself down in the floor in front of Eliot, and him doing her hair in more and more intricate styles? Cause I can. And now I want to draw fanart of that.

every episode of criminal minds
  • Reid: *is injured and/or just having a hard time right now also he's probably on the floor*
  • Morgan: *worried about Reid*
  • Garcia: *worried about everyone*
  • Morgan and Garcia: *verbally doing it while they worry*
  • Prentiss: *speaking every language at once while shooting bottles off a fence from 6 miles away* *sins to win*
  • JJ: *being an actual angel she is literally floating while a choir sings heavenly in the background*
  • Hotch: *can't see because he's been trying to find his way out from under his eyebrows the entire episode* *eventually does, gets the job done, and goes home to his son*
  • Rossi: *getting in everybody else's shit so he can hear about their drama and write about it but not help*
  • Rossi: *spaghettis*
2

~there’s no more everyday. 

Reshop, Heda.

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻  That’s it. I’m sending these boys down to the second floor. I AM IN RENOVATION HELL AGAIN!
I live on the fourth but they’re renovating the second and I CAN HEAR IT ALL DAY LONG. The amount of headaches I’ve had over the past week is ridiculous. And I actually really rarely get those.

Ugh… screen redraw, because.
….. I might have fallen a bit for Mr. Eyebrows……. who am I kidding I’m hopelessly lost *curls up in a corner staring into space*

Okay but folks. Witchcraft is not piles of feathers and rocks on the floor next to a pretty book. Druidry is not a naked white woman sitting on a mossy boulder or underneath a tree. Paganism is not wearing crystal jewlery and flowy dresses. Just because you have a triple goddess/ moon/ knot tattoo does not make you anymore spiritually intune than anyone else. 

To quote someone else, “Witches don’t look like anything. Witches are. Witches do.”

  • Gaara: Some months ago I lost my life to the Akatsuki.
  • Naruto [with muffled sobbing]: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE YOU'RE DEAD
  • Gaara: Sometimes I can still hear the voice of the dear friend I left behind.
  • Naruto: [gross sobbing continues, accompanied by a violent tackelhug that takes the esteemed Kazekage straight down to his office floor]
  • Gaara: It appears someone messed up and sent me to heaven.
  • Naruto: !!! STOP !!! SAYING !!! YOU'RE DEAD !!!
  • Naruto: YOU ARE SO NOT FUNNY RIGHT NOW GAARAAAAA

me: oh yeah i’ll just go mkae some ramen it’ll be easy
me, five minutes later: *spills water all over my pants, spills the flavoring packet on the floor, accidentally drops the pan filled with hot water while wearing no shoes*
me: i love :) making food !! :)

twenty years from now my kid will come running into the room crying and screaming and throwing things onto the floor and I’ll stand by all horrified and ask over and over “what happened” and they’ll just look at me with betrayal in their eyes, throw the complete box set of avatar the last airbender at me and whisper, “you liar…zutara wasn’t endgame. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN, HOW COULD SHE END UP WITH AANG what about all their chemistry” and I’ll get down real slow and hug them and stroke their hair as they sob. And then I’ll say emotionally, “But they’ll always be together…” Pause as I take a deep breath and place my hand over my heart, “in HERE”

A Dance

“Put your hand—Crowley, not there, Simon. We’re dancing, not groping.” His hand slid over Simon’s, guiding it back to his waist. “Right. Now the other one on my shoulder.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that.” Baz smiled down at Simon. Simon smiled up at Baz. “Ready, love?”

“Ready,” Simon whispered.

The music started with the slow trickle of a piano before melting into a chorus of strings. All eyes were on the two men gliding across the polished floor. They were glowing, and so lovely to look at.

“Remember the first time we danced?” Simon nestled his face against Baz’s neck. He felt fluid, twisting through the ballroom easily. Or maybe he was floating, soaring higher than everyone else, suspended in Baz’s arms.

“Yeah.” Baz chuckled lightly. “You crushed my foot.” His fingers traced slow circles against the nape of Simon’s neck. “You haven’t improved much.”

“Sorry.” They were both grinning messes. Simon pulled his head back. His chest tightened. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“On the contrary.” Baz pressed his forehead against Simon’s. They were so in love. “I’m the one who married Simon Snow.”

“Simon Snow-Pitch,” he corrected.

Their lips brushed, they kissed, and the entire ballroom erupted into applause.

  • Me: I just want to curl under my blankets, read and watch TV series until I fall unconscious IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK
  • Me: *cries*
  • Me: *rolls herself on the floors*
  • Me: *kicks and screams*
  • Me: *opens the window and shouts her frustration to the world*
  • Me: *complains to friends and total strangers*
  • Me: *writes about it on tumblr wasting even more time*
  • Me: *writes a shitty song on the notes of I cant stop this feeling anymore that goes: I can’t study linguistic anymore/I forgotten what life was like before*
  • Me: *cries again convinced she’ll never graduate*
  • Me: *makes herself a cup of tea*
  • Me: *sighs*
  • Me: *goes back to her book totally demotivated*
hope

he sees the kitchen light on at two in the morning upon his return from the bathroom and cautiously walks downstairs, snatching up his wand from his bedside table as he goes.

“simon?”

simon’s sat on the floor, cross-legged, staring at his laptop, eyes glued to the screen, earphones firmly covering his ears.

baz sits in front of him and nearly knocks over a cup of coffee placed on the floor next to him, and simon starts. his eyes are wild and something’s not right.

“simon?” and his voice is softer, and he doesn’t know if he dares to meet simon’s eyes.

but he does, and simon stares back at him, gaze full of caffeine and confusion.

“come on,” baz gently tries to take his laptop away from him, but simon suddenly grabs on to it.

baz doesn’t dare to say his name again.

simon says, in a voice choked with fear and guilt, “nightmares.”

“i’ll sleep with you,” baz says immediately. simon looks uncertain.

“until morning?”

“until whenever you want me to leave.”

“i’m scared.” this is said so quietly, to the tiles of the kitchen floor, that baz almost doesn’t hear, but he does.

“you don’t have to be.”

“what if-” simon cuts off abruptly.

“we’ll deal with the what-ifs when they come.”

simon hugs his laptop to him as they climb the stairs and refuses to take his earphones off even though there isn’t anything playing.

he doesn’t let go when they clamber into simon’s bed, a tangle of legs and awkwardness, and baz wraps his arms around simon’s waist, gently and carefully, unspoken reassurance, a blanket for the boy in his arms, who’s shaking a little.

“baz?” his voice shakes, too.

baz softly kisses the top of his head. “here.”

they fall asleep to intertwined fingers and baz’s breath ruffling simon’s hair.