its not even any good

  • Me: *posts anything to do with Cult Ending*
  • Some guy with a megaphone, directly next to my ear: Actually the Cult Ending is CONFIRMED non-canon and scrapped content, despite there being no evidence to prove this!!! The game is 100% wholesome and comedy and nothing dark at all!!! Why even post about something NON-CANON???
  • My gay, horror loving ass: Let me have my own fun, damn it.

but it’s like-
the night throbs in my veins sometimes
and i don’t know what to do with this energy?
it isn’t my heart, no, not that, not anything known,
but it flows like blood would and i want to leap out of the window-
i want to meet the stars / i want to tell them that the night
isn’t the darkest place that i’ve been but even when i’m there
somehow starlight still guides me.

l.s. | it flows like blood would © 2017

@ bellarke fandom and @ 100 fandom: for all that is good and precious and innocent in this universe please PLEASE don’t contact the child actress for Madi on her social media account to talk about shipping fandom. in any capacity. let her be.

anonymous asked:

If nO hOnEyMuStArD hOw AbOuT cHeRrYbErRy b0i

Y’all honestly, please stop asking about ships please

8

The Property of Hate + Onion Headlines

Hello, I’m new here and I offer these

2

distorts are nice

onceuponaprincessworld  asked:

hi there, how about a "One character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/ etc." with captain swan?

“And then?” Emma urges him from behind the wooden folding panel, excitement evident in her voice.

Killian chuckles. “Then, I knocked two out when they came below deck, hands tied behind my back. Fought my way up after cutting the rope and nicking a sword. I had the captain on his knees in no time, sword to his throat and control of his ship in my hands. That’ll teach him to capture the crew of the Jolly.”

He admits, he has quite a bit of fun regaling his tales, especially to her. Even if her immediate response is almost always–

“How much of that is true?”

“I assure you, love,” he replies, putting hand to his heart even though she can’t see, “I would never lie to you.”

Emma hums in what he knows to be mock disbelief, but he can hear her amusement. It’s a game she plays, teasing him. He enjoys it quite a bit.

Killian fiddles with a trinket of a wooden swan on her dresser, turning it over and over in his hand before setting it back down. He looks up to see himself in the small mirror that hangs on her wall, and notes, not for the first time, how out of place his rougish character seems in the pristine room. He isn’t allowed to be in here, in the Princess’ bedchambers; it isn’t proper. But propriety left the equation the first time Emma kissed him in an alleyway behind a tavern, so there’s that.

He never would have thought, in any life, that the paths of a Pirate Captain and a Princess would ever cross, let alone become so intimately entangled.

“You sure you don’t want to join me at the ball?” his princess asks.

“Though I do appreciate the offer, I prefer my head attached to my neck.”

“Let it be known that the terror of the seven seas, the notorious Captain Hook, fears the Prince Consort,” Emma snorts. It is so unladylike, so far–he’s sure–from the mannerisms that would have been taught to her growing up. There is something to be said about this, the bits she hides from the rest of the kingdom but that are given so freely to him. He smiles.

“It’s your mother that terrifies me, darling.”

Emma laughs, and it warms him from the inside. He’s a fool to have fallen in love with a Princess, one who is fierce and intelligent, one who renders him useless with a touch, one whom he has no future with, would never truly be deserving of.

“So?” Emma says, piercing his thoughts. He hears a rustle of fabric and turns around, finding her in a gown of gold-ish beige, beads catching in the candlelight so it looks like she’s glowing.

He tries to speak but no words come out. She looks enchanting, he wants to tell her, riveting, like a glimmer of light in a long, dark, existence. (His, specifically, but perhaps he shouldn’t get too carried away.)

Emma watches him curiously, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.

“You’ve rendered me speechless,” he gets out, a soft laugh swallowing up the last syllable. She rolls her eyes but grins anyway.

She hasn’t put on her high heeled shoes yet so she’s still a foot shorter than him when he steps closer. He reaches out his hand to the back of her neck, tracing the delicate golden chain she’s wearing. He gently tugs it out of the place where it’s caught itself in the handiwork of the strap of her dress.

The pendant is a gemstone, rare and unheard of in this land. It is the exact shade of green that matches her eyes. He’d gotten it for her on the occasion of her birthday a few months prior. He can’t help the way the side of his mouth quirks up.

Killian rights the direction of the necklace and stops his hand just shy of the pendant, thumb stroking her collarbone slowly. The air of lightness has subsided and when he looks up, he finds Emma fixated on him, gaze intense and breaths shallow.

“Truly, you look stunning.”

When she kisses him, it’s deliberately slow and deep as though she’s attempting to slow down time. He knows, he’s guilty of it too. His hooked hand encircles her waist and he presses her closer, wishing this could be a permanent embrace, and not one shared in secret behind locked doors and in shadowed alleys under disguises.

“This thing would be much more fun with you, Killian,” she murmurs, nudging his nose with hers once she breaks the kiss. They both know he can’t attend a royal gathering, not with the crimes of thievery and disservice to the crown on his head.

“Aye, I’m loath to miss an evening with you,” he rasps out. “But I’ll meet you after, and we’ll make sure you have some fun, hm?”

He feels her smirk pressed up against his lips when he kisses her.

intimacy prompts

All of The Weekenders were gay as hell!! You cant even deny it! Rewatch the show! None of those kids were straight!!

Carver? Gay as fuck!!! 10 year old me could spot that shit from space!!! try harder!!!

Tish????? Lesbian!!!!! She decided her crushes on boys pragmatically by who was the best traditional folk muscian you CANNOT-

Lor?? Gay AND trans as HECK don’t TEST me!!!!! Definitely came out as a trans man in highschool and grew the raddest sideburns anyones ever seen!!!! !!!!!!

Tino? TINO??? Tino Toni-fuckig-tini was the gayest ace ON PLANET EARTH!!!! I HAVE THE DATA, YOU CAN’T RUN FROM THE TRUTH!!!

ALL. THE. WEEKENDERS. WERE. TOTALLY. GAY.

2

”but it felt like,,,nozomi chan wanted me to do this~”

wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart (chapter ¼)

Summary: It’s just Isak’s fucking luck that he’ll probably be outed before he ever kisses a boy. Fortunately, Even’s there to fix that, only to flit out of Isak’s life right after. Years later, a wedding brings them back together. (Once again, @westiris is an amazing beta and I love her.)

Pairing: Isak/Even

Words: 8,643

Now

Sorry, baby, I have to work late. Tell Noora and Eva congrats from me! xoxo

Isak sighs, rubbing at his temples. He should’ve expected this—Wesley has a huge project coming up at work. It’s all he can talk about, but there’s very little about customer analytics or audience tracking that Isak cares for. He can hardly blame his boyfriend, either. Isak’s spent the last week cooped up in his office, grading papers or preparing for that huge conference in Copenhagen. They’d skipped their usual Tuesday date night, but that was probably for the better. Isak doesn’t have enough energy to force a conversation. The only good thing he’d get out of date night would be the sex, and he has the comfort of his own hand and his best dildo for that. It’s much more efficient that way.

[Ao3]

Anti slowly taking over Jack’s body then killing him off.

song: Halsey - Control

i watched this so many times i dont even know if its good at all or makes any sense or what 

@anti-support-group i hope it’s okay that i’m tagging you guys in it!

@therealjacksepticeye

Making Sense

A SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

There was flour fucking everywhere.

“Did any of the flour get into the bowl?” Baz mused as Simon dumped another cup of the powder on the countertop, dropping a ball of dough on top and sending a cloud of flour drifting across the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Simon grinned, gingerly biting the leftover dough off of his fingers.  “Do you think we put in enough cherries?”

“We already did double what the recipe called for.”

“I know, but I want there to be cherries -”

“In every bite,” Baz finished, smiling fondly at Simon concentrating on the dough, his brow furrowing involuntarily.  Baz loved that furrow.  That furrow was only one of countless things Baz loved about Simon.

Simon turned to meet his eye, and Baz quickly dropped his gaze to the flour-covered counter.  Baz loved Simon’s eyes too much to even be able to look at them.  It was like trying to stare at the sun; he had to look away after a second, but the image was still there, stuck behind his own eyes, burnt onto his retinas.

Oblivious little fuck.

“Should I roll it thinner?” Simon asked, snapping Baz out of his thoughts.  Not that it mattered, the thoughts would carry on, like subtitles in his brain, impossible to ignore.

“It looks fine,” Baz shook his head.  “I wonder though, should we add something to them?  Like peppermint extract or something?”

“Why would we do that?”

“They are meant to be for a Christmas party…”

“So we’ll make Christmas cookies next,” Simon shrugged, “I’m not going to change the scones, they’re perfect as they are.”

Baz got an idea.  “How about we cut them with Christmas cutters?”

Simon laughed.  “The scones?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

They dipped their cookie cutters in the inch-thick layer of flour that covered the counter and cut their scones into Christmas trees and gingerbread men.  They worked in silence, side by side, Baz trying to hide the bristling that occurred whenever he was close to Simon.  He still found it hard to believe that after all these years of being friends and spending time together, Simon had still never seemed to notice the effect he had on Baz.

They both reached into the flour bowl at the same time, their hands brushing.  It shouldn’t have made Baz blush, it wasn’t like they never touched each other, but Baz couldn’t help the fact that every touch felt like an electric shock, like it made his neck crawl.

The second their hands brushed, Baz fought the urge to snatch his back.  He wasn’t expecting Simon to do the snatching.

Baz peeked at Simon’s face.  The boy was staring down at the dough, but his eyes were wide and his cheeks were…

Don’t overthink it, he told himself. You mean nothing to him, not like that.

But there was that tiny voice inside somewhere that kept him hoping.  What if you do?

“Ready for the oven then?” Simon broke the silence, a little loudly for such a simple question, especially with Baz right beside him.

“Sure,” Baz replied, trying to sound light, and they transferred the dough onto the pan, sliding it into the oven and setting the timer. Baz brushed the flour dust off his hands and turned back to Simon.  “Now we wait.”

Simon had an odd expression on his face.  He stared sort of… past Baz, like he was so lost in thought that he was seeing the things he was thinking, and they were happening right behind Baz.  “What shall we do in the meantime?” Simon murmured.

“Well,” Baz watched Simon’s face, puzzled.  “We could start to clean up, I guess.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed.  “We could, yeah.”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

Suddenly Simon’s eyes met Baz’s, too quickly for Baz to look away.  He returned the gaze as coolly as he could, feeling more and more exposed with every second that dragged by.  “Something wrong?” he managed, his mouth dry.

“No,” Simon murmured, not looking away.  “Nothing’s wrong.  In fact, something’s right.  Everything’s right.”  He took a deep breath.  “Everything is… making sense.”

“R-really?”

Simon took a step towards Baz, then another.  His gaze was so intense that Baz instinctively backed up, finding that he had nowhere to go, he was already backed against the counter. “Simon,” he stammered, “what are you doing?”

“There’s…” Simon cocked his head up at Baz, now only inches away.  “There’s flour on your face.”  He reached a hand up to brush his thumb across Baz’s cheek, so softly that it felt like a butterfly’s touch.  Baz could hear his heart pounding in his ears, louder and louder and…

And then Simon reached up…

And Baz’s heart went silent.

Because Simon was kissing him.  Shyly.  On the mouth.

Baz’s eyes scrunched shut, and he went so tense that his stomach almost felt sick.

Simon dropped away from Baz’s mouth.  When Baz opened his eyes, Simon’s face was red, and his brow was furrowed again.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Baz had to take a couple of breaths before he found his voice. “W-what for?”

Simon’s eyes were blurring up.  “I thought I’d figured it out,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I thought that you wanted… that. I guess not.”

“Did… did you want that?”

Simon squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear dripped from one of them.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“Simon,” Baz rushed to dry the tear from Simon’s cheek, not even thinking about the gesture.  “I need to know.”

For once, it was Simon who couldn’t meet Baz’s eyes.  “Yes, alright?  I wanted it, but clearly you didn’t, so let’s just forget it happened and carry on.”  His voice was hitching as he fought back tears, his breath becoming ragged.

Baz didn’t know it was possible for a heart to be broken and mended at the exact same time, but while Simon’s tears tore him apart, he felt light as air, practically giddy.  Without letting himself think about it, he leaned down and kissed the tear off of Simon’s face, letting his lips linger a second longer than they needed to.  He felt Simon’s shuddering stop in surprise.  When he met Simon’s eyes, neither of them looked away.  “Wait,” Simon breathed, “did you want that?”

Baz could barely whisper the words “God, yes” before he was crashing into Simon’s mouth again.  This time there was no hesitation, no stiffness, just a lifetime of wanting coming to a head.  

Simon’s mouth tasted of cherries and the salty sweetness of the dough he’d been sneaking the entire time.  Baz’s hands went from Simon’s face to his hair, one hand exploring the back of Simon’s neck.  Simon gave Baz’s chest a push, and before either of them knew what was happening, Baz was sitting on the countertop, Simon straddling his lap and kissing him so deeply that Baz thought he might faint.  Simon’s hands cupped Baz’s face, still pushing him back until Baz was leaning his head against the cupboards, the cold wood the only thing giving him any sense of direction.  His world was nothing but Simon, and he couldn’t hold back a moan as Simon angled his head and opened Baz’s mouth with his own.  

It wasn’t until much later, when they finally broke apart, dizzy and gasping for breath, that they realized they’d sat in the flour.

5

i can’t believe my team leader is a meme: the new series on mtv

Am I studyblr enough yet