just watching road trip and crying

The Psychology of Logan

Logan is the perfect movie. If you have not seen it and have plans to, please, read no further. Stop right now. Go into the movie without any spoilers from me. Then by all means, come back and read.

If you have already seen it, or for some reason do not plan to see it and still want to read on, then you may proceed.

Keep reading

Yesterday The Creaturehub finally ended. It broke my heart tbh. So I wanted to share a little memory I had..

I remember being twelve and wanting so badly to play my uncles game, Fear 3. I asked him if I could and he told me it might be too scary so maybe I shouldn’t. Of course, I said I wouldn’t be scared and began to play.. I got a few jump scares and decided it was best to maybe look up where the other scary scenes were…

I went onto YouTube and searched for fear 3 videos and found a really good one by the youtuber, SSoHPKC. It was the first gaming video I watched on YouTube ever. I started watching him more and more; his videos on fallout and Mario..

and then one day, a year later I decided to venture off into other YouTube gamers. I found PewDiePie and Uberhaxornova. I liked PewDiePie, but distinctly remember waiting daily for James to make a new video, which I had never done for anyone else..

I then followed my sidebar of recommendations to a channel called The Creatures. I watched them religiously every week since 2012-2016… I watched as Max left, Eddie and Aleks came; I watched treetopia and payday, road trips and holiday specials.. I was obsessed.

I got the notification in 2016 that James, Aleks, Aaron and Joe were leaving and I remember crying. I cried because I knew that was it for the creatures and I knew I’d never watch their videos weekly again because my two main reasons were gone, James and Seamus. (I even remember seeing Jameshub and being like, “oh shit” lol)

I became a full on Cow Chop fan and checked in on the hub monthly just to be disappointed.. I stopped watching them completely and was devastated about it.

Finally.. I’m 18. And after 5 creature shirts, 4 years (besides Seamus and James years), dozens of live streams, and a trillion cat jokes… The Creaturehub is finally gone.

I wish the guys the best of luck in the future and thank them greatly for the memories I have.

Goodbye Creatures..

stranger things tag I guess

fave character & why: Nancy bc she really develops from smart girl only into the popular guy to a smart girl who is also badass

non-villain least fave character: Steve bc he’s an asshole. like in the end he’s a good asshole but still an asshole

must protect at all costs: Eleven oh my lord she is just so precious

overrated: Barb bc she’s in like a few scenes but she wasn’t the most important so I just didn’t care that much

casually worries about: Will that poor baby I mean obvi

neutral: Hopper

the badass you never expected: Lucas he slayed

human puppy: Dustin

who you would watch a spin-off of: Jonathan I want to see a road trip Jancy where they solve crimes and fight monsters

who you think will angst the most in season 2: Mike but it’ll be like a secret angst in public but he’ll, like, cry in the basement

dating ryan magee would include
  • the most common thing he would say is “i found this really cool movie and i need you to watch it.”
  • waking up at a reasonable time but staying in bed because ryan hasn’t woken up yet
  • like seriously a ridiculous amount
  • nonstop laughter
  • cooking for you all the time
  • taking polaroids of him cause he’s so cute!
  • getting jealous because lego always comes to you first
  • having a love-hate relationship with matt
  • road trips
  • memes
  • talking about other couples and how cringe they are
  • collaboratively roasting matt
  • his fam adoring you!!!
  • his friends adoring you!!!!
  • your fam and friends adoring him!!
  • rustling his hair all the time just to mess with him
  • crying
lapidot road trip tropes
  • Peridot is the main driver, she controls the aux cord with vengeance
    • Lapis makes off key techno noises with her mouth until Peridot is forced to change the playlist from Daft Punk to Nikki Minaj
  • Lapis is in charge of the map but they definitely get lost and Lapis takes them to strange backroads with weird rock formations
  • They 100% go to the desert because Lapis is curious about places with no water and Peridot hears that’s where her alien plush comes from
    • they take a second road trip to Canada to do the CPH experience in person
  • After watching 12 hours of Guy Fieri Lapis takes them to every hamburger joint on the way and give them reviews. In person, outloud. 
    • Peridot has a yelp account but she mostly just compares all food to how alike it is to pizza (the first thing Amethyst introduced her to)
  • They gather a total of 67 souvenirs for Steven, ranging from ‘Welcome to Hawaii!’ from an Arizona pitstop and knock off crying breakfast food merch (it’s an “otmeel with emotions!”)
  • they run off into thunderstorms when it rains in the desert and Peridot tries to show Lapis how cool falling water is, and they stare in wonder at lightning and the noise that follows
    • they may or may not hold hands when it happens
April Fool’s

hello first of all you are literally my favorite writer on tumblr! so can you write a fic where MGG plays a prank on the reader where he pretends to cheat on her but then after he says april fools shes still mad?  and they fight and she gives him the silent treatment blahblah you know lots of angst and then they make up and fluff at the end.  okay by ur awesome keep doing you cuz ur amazing!  thanks :)

No, you’re amazing!  And thank you for the incredible compliment.  Really and truly, I am honored that you are enjoying these stories so much.  Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!

“Dude, this really isn’t a good idea,” Shemar says as he drops Matthew off at the restaurant.

“You know we have prank wars that math the scale of world wars.  It’ll be funny!  Plus it’s the first of April, so she’s practically expecting it,” he explains.

“Saran wrap on the toilet is a prank.  This is just wrong,” Shemar says as he watches his friend get out of the car.

“Just sit on that bench and watch,” Matthew says as he ushers to the other side of the road, “Because history is about to be made, my friend.”

Shaking his head as he watches Matthew send the text message, he sighs as he pulls around, parking his car and going over to the bench.

This really wasn’t a good idea.


Hearing your phone ring, you pick it up and smile.

1 New Message

Opening your phone as your brow crinkles, you reach out for your keys as you scroll through your other text messages.

Can’t wait to see you at our favorite coffee place at noon.  I’ve missed you so much!

Missed you?  You saw him two hours ago.

Scurrying as you grab your purse, you toss everything into it and slam the door behind you, wondering how in the world you could have forgotten a coffee date with him.

Climbing into your car as you start it up, you race out of the parking garage and make a bold left turn, much to the dismay of the honking drivers, and run every light you can in order to get to coffee on time.

You knew there was a prank in here somewhere, you just had to figure out where.

The last time you had pulled a prank on him, he spent four hours digging silly putty out of his ears.

Don’t ask.

Snickering as you remember the prank, you knew today was his day to get you back, and you were bracing for it.

Throwing the car into a parking space, you throw your door open and practically trip over yourself to cross the road, stopping just short of the door as you use the window to prep your hair.

And that’s when you see it.

Matthew, at a coffee table…

With another woman.

As you furrow your brow and move closer to the window, your hands begin to tremble as you watch him wrap his long, delicate fingers around the pretty red head’s hand, watching as his thumb…the thumb that always found your cheek when you were crying, the thumb that always supported your neck when you were kissing…tracing the back of another woman’s hand.

As your hands go limp, trembling from the anger and sadness welling in your chest, you hear your purse drop to the ground as tears begin to cascade down your face, taking your mascara and eyeliner along with it.

How could he?

After two beautiful years and so much compromise on your part.

How could he throw that away?

And suddenly you found yourself pushing through the door, the air bustling through your nose as the invisible steam shot from your ears.

Walking up to the table as they both turn their heads, you watch as Matthew’s eyes grow wide at your haggard appearance.

“Y/N…?  Are you alright?” he asks, shooting up from the table as he puts his hands on your arms.

“Don’t touch me!” you wail as you hear the door slam open behind you.

“Sweetheart, I…”

As you watch Matthew look from you to the red head and back again, she shoots up out of her chair and extends her hand.

“Hello.  I’m Natalia.  Matthew roped me in on the prank,” she says, flashing you a hesitant smile as your eyes rake up and down her body.

“The…the prank!?” you exclaim breathlessly as your wild eyes flicker back towards Matthew.

“What prank!?” you roar, pointing your finger in his face as he takes a step back.

“The prank where I pretend to cheat on you to get you back for the silly putty?”

As your eyes widen and your nostrils flare, you feel your hands ball up into fists as Shemar’s voice comes in from the outside.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” he murmurs.

Whipping around on your feet, your face red with anger, you thrust your finger in his face as you growl.

“You knew about this?  And you didn’t tell me!?”

“I-I-I told him it was a bad idea,” he stammers.

Whipping back around as Matthew’s face completely drops from his amusement earlier, he reaches out for you and you stumble backwards.

“Don’t touch me,” you breathe, your chest constricting as a light whimper escapes your lips.

“Baby, it’s a joke.  Just an April Fool’s joke,” Matthew pleads, trying to calm you down as you continue to stuble towards the door.

“Saran wrap on the toilet is a joke, Matthew!” you roar.

“That’s what I said,” Shemar murmurs as he leans over towards the red head.

“Baby, please, I’m so-”

But before you could finish his sentence, the back of your hand cracks against his cheek, sending his head flying off to the side as you stomp out of the coffee shop, your purse still on the ground in front of the window.


You don’t know how long you had been walking around, but as the sun began to set you sighed as yet another tear ricocheted down your cheek.

You didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t know how to get back to the coffee shop, and you didn’t have your apartment keys or your wallet.

Walking into the bookstore behind you, you wipe your face as you ask the attendant if you could use their phone.

And before you knew it, you were in a back room, typing in the only number you knew by heart.

“Y/N!  Oh my god, are you alright?  Where are you?  Please, I’m so sorry, just let me come pick you up.  I can drive your car and everything.  I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Not able to say a word as the sadness sits heavily on your shoulders, you rattle off a cross street and the name of the bookstore before hanging up the phone call and thanking the manager for his generosity.

15 or so minutes later, you saw your car pull up to the side of the road as the passenger side window rolls down, revealing the very red face of your heartless boyfriend.

“Please get in.  We can go anywhere you want,” he pleads.

As you feel the car pull off, you feel Matthew put his hand on top of yours as you quickly jerk yours away.

“Y/N…” he pleads.

“Just take me home,” you breathe.

The ride home was quiet and tense.  You could tell he had so many things to say, and all you wanted to do was take a shower and curl up in bed.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually cheated.  What mattered was that he thought it was funny.

That somehow, in his twisted mind that you had come to love so voraciously, cheating on someone was rewarded with a laugh.

As he follows you up the stairs, his body practically brushing you with every step, you throw open your apartment door, forgetting to lock it in your haste to get to the coffee shop, and toss your things onto the catch-all table at the front of the room.

“Y/N, I-”

“Just…no,” you say, holding up your hand as you cut him off.

Slowly turning your gaze towards him for the first time since the debacle that afternoon, you see the sadness dripping down his cheeks as the red outline of your hand makes itself prevalent across his porcelain cheek.

“Here,” you say, rushing over to the kitchen sink and wetting a washcloth with cool water, “This should help.”

Wiping it lightly over the reddened cheekbone as he winces lightly, you slowly stroke it, the cool water causing Matthew to relax as he closes his eyes and sighs.

“Please let me talk,” he whispers.

“No,” you say plainly.

Hearing him huff but offer no words, you bring your hand up and cup his other cheek to keep him from wincing away as you slowly soothe the raised area back to its former position.

“I should have never hit you,” you say as tears begin to well in your eyes again.

“I should have never thought that that prank would’ve been funny,” he offers.

“It doesn’t matter,” you murmur, shaking your head as your thumb mindlessly strokes his other cheek, “Hitting someone is never a reaction to have when you’re angry.”

You could feel Matthew’s eyes searching you as you continue to baby the red outline on his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpers, his voice cracking as you feel a tear drip down onto your moving thumb, “I’m so sorry that I ever thought that something like that would be funny.”

“You were just trying to one up the last prank I pulled on you,” you lull, a smirk crawling across your face as you meet his gaze.

“Maybe you just met your match,” you muse as you wink at him.

“I know I have,” he says as he settles his hands on your hips.

Sighing as you toss the washcloth over the island counter, your arms drop heavily to your sides as if a weight is dangling from them both, causing your shoulders to droop as Matthew’s body grows taut, holding your weight as you sigh into his chest.

“I know I have,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as he brings his hand up to stroke your hair.

Please forgive me for hitting you.  I’m so sorry,” you beg, your body quivering as your hands come up and grip the fabric of his shirt.

“I deserved it,” he says.

“No!” you yell as you rip away, “No one ever deserves to be hit.  No matter what!”

As Matthew’s eyes study your crooked figure, your hands trembling as you wipe the tears from your cheeks, you watch out of the corner of your eye as his fists clench, his mind putting two and two together as you cover your face with your hands.

“Someone’s hit you, haven’t they?” he asks.

“It’s not important,” you say as you shake your head, raising your gaze to his as a mixture of curiosity and anger flickers in his eyes, “What’s important is that I will never raise a hand to you again.  I swear, Matthew.  On my life and yours…I will never hit you again.”

Enunciating the last few words of your statement, you watch as Matthew’s long legs stride him across the floor, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as they encapsulate you in his warmth as his lips come crashing down upon yours, his lips drenched in salty tears as his tongue pokes and prods, begging to be let in as he picks you up and barrels your back into the wall.

Coming up for air as your foreheads mesh together, your light panting intermingling together as his arms hold you close, you flutter your eyes open to find him studying you intently, his eyes stern and cold as his jaw sets itself in place.

“I know,” he says as he looks into your eyes, “And I will never, ever…ever hit you,” he breathes.

“Or pull a stupid stunt like that,” he adds at the end.

And as a smile breaks out across your cheeks, you pull his face back into yours, your mouths colliding once again as Matthew picks you off of the wall and turns you both around, his feet striding you both towards your bedroom as you kick the door shut.

Back to December - Jack Maynard Imagine

Requested: “Heey,I know you’re really busy,but are you going to write sequel for this is my version,jack maynard imagine.Thank you so much,you’re great ❤❤❤❤”

A/N: I decided to base the sequel off a song as well, so I used Back to December, by Taylor Swift.

Part 1: This Is My Version

Jack’s heart skipped a beat when you walked through the doors of the café. A part of him still thought you wouldn’t come. The sight of you brought back a flood of memories that Jack knew he should have been prepared for. He thought about your summer together, all the road trips where he’d watched you laughing from the passenger side of the car. He thought about that night in September, when his cat had passed away and you’d just held him. It was the first time you’d ever seen him cry. Fast forward to the fall, and your Halloween together, when he’d told you he loved you. He still couldn’t believe he’d let fear creep into his mind.

Jack watched as you pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.

“I’m so glad you made time to see me.” Jack said to you.

“Of course, I’m glad we’re still being civil about this.” You smiled at him, but it wasn’t the same smile Jack had come to know while you were dating. He could tell your guard was up.

“So, how’s life?” Jack asked, trying to make small talk.

“I’ve been good!” You replied. “The whole family’s been good. I’ve actually been super busy with my classes at college this semester. I finally got that internship and now it’s like I have no time anymore.”

“Oh congratulations!” Jack said. You’d been in the interview stage for that internship before you broke up and he knew how much you’d wanted it. It was weird for him, not knowing how it had turned out, after being so in the loop about your life for so long. “I’ve actually been doing really well with Youtube myself.”

“That’s good to hear.” You smiled that half smile again. In the back of your mind, you still remembered the last time you’d seen him and the conversation you’d had, and you were having trouble erasing it.

The small talk carried on, mostly about work and the weather, until you’d both finished your drinks.

“Well, I better go, I have a paper due tomorrow.” You said, standing up from the table. Jack’s heart fell. Even though your talk had been awkward and short, it had still been the best 45 minutes he’d had since you’d broken up.

“I’ll walk you to your car!” He said, jumping up after you. He still had so much to say before you exited his life for who knows how long again.

“Alright.” You knew Jack wanted to tell you something, so when he was quiet the whole way to your car, you stopped in front of the door and turned to look at him, waiting.

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out how to start.

“I haven’t been sleeping much these days.” He started, referring to all the 4AM nights he’d spent, lying in bed thinking about you.

“Jack…” You were fairly sure you knew where he was going with this, and you weren’t certain you wanted to hear it. “You don’t have to.”

“No.” He said quickly, and looked you in the eyes for the first time since you’d left the café. “This is me, swallowing my pride and telling you I’m sorry for that night. You gave me your love and I didn’t trust you. I shouldn’t have let you say goodbye. I really would go back in time and change it if I could.”

He paused, but you didn’t say anything. Your head was reeling from what he was telling you. You knew he was going to bring up the break up but you never thought he would actually apologize. That was the one thing Jack would never do, he had way too much pride. So this was new.

“It turns out freedom is just missing you,” He carried on, with a half-laugh. “I miss your smile, I miss how right you were for me. God I should have realized what I had while I still had you.”

Again, you said nothing.

“Look, maybe this is just wishful thinking, but if we tried again, I swear I’d treat you right.”

“Jack,” You started, but your heart hurt. His apology seemed so sincere and you wanted nothing more than to just fall back into his arms, a place you’d missed so much lately. But then you thought about what he’d said the night you’d left, and you knew you had to let him go. “I’m sorry.”

You opened the door to your car and got inside. Just as you were closing it, you overheard two more words from Jack.

“I understand.”

A/N: I felt so bad writing this, please request a part 3 so I can make Jack happy again! lol


One shot based on this imagine.

A/N: Huge thank you to yanniesun for letting me use this imagine for a one shot.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, depression, references of suicide and self harm. MAY TRIGGER


Cas paced the bunker, pondering a great many options to his present conundrum. He had appeared in the bunker to address Sam and Dean with a case, but had not found them, but rather you. You had been in your room, a bottle of burbon at your feet, and the glinting little razor in your hands. Not sure what to expect when your sobbing had reached his ears caused him to leave his presence unknown, and he watched you as you cried.

Tears had streaked you face as you shook with each sob. With the boys gone you finally had the chance to let out without them possibly finding out about pain you truly felt. There were no more wounds, bruises, or broken bones; except for what you gave yourself. Your mind said you deserved each and every one of them, that you were just as everyone had said; your parents as they shrieked and lashed out at you, your ex who had taken the belt to you for not meeting their expectations, even Dean’s demon. You were a piece of trash, You ruined all you touched, so why not yourself too. A harsh burning raked your arm as you slid the cool piece of metal across your skin once, twice, three times. Blood seeped out of the little dashes cris-crossing your limbs, creating trickling rivers towards your fingertips.

Cas’ stomach churned at the image of your self inflicted injuries. What could torment you so? He turned once more, facing the bunker door before taking flight and appearing before the elder Winchester, solely occupying a dingy motel room.  

“Dean. I need your assistance right away. It is of great import.” He had said. A rather drunk and grumpy Dean had glared at him.

“What do you want, Cas?” He said, reaching for a half empty bottle of amber liquid, most likely alcohol.

“It is Y/N. There is something terribly wrong.” Castiel replied, concern colored his voice.

“Y/N is fine Cas. Y/N is always fine. Smiling and Happy.” Dean grunted, he took a long draw from the bottle and glared at the angel. Cas saw arguing was pointless and left. Now he paced again, pondering how to get you more help from the library of the bunker when he heard a single thought.

“Even Dean made it clear that my best way to save people is to just die, I have the means to anyway. He won’t care, I love him too much to let my presence hurt him, just like everyone else.”

That had made the final twig of patience snap inside Castiel, and he left the bunker once again. After collecting the necessary items, he reappeared in front of Dean. Sam looked up from his laptop in the corner, just in time to see Cas drop a match into the bowl and chant something in Enochian before standing and taking the bowl to a far less than sober Dean. Cas dipped two fingers into the ashes and wrote Y/N across his forehead and chest.

Instantly Dean’s eyes flew open as heart wrenching pain and torment filled his body. His arms burned as though filled with glass and tears began to fall from his eyes. He sobered up almost instantly at the onslaught of pain.

“My apologies Dean, but as I have said, this is of great import.” Castiel said before making his way back to the bunker to watch over you.

Dean still sat on the ratty bed in the motel, barely able to keep afloat on the torrent of emotions. Images of angry people he recognized from a few photographs flashed through is mind, and voices screaming nothing but hatred rang through his ears. Sam was at a loss as Dean fell to the ground, hands on his ears, your name the only coherent thing from his lips as he cried out, the unadulterated sadness completely overwhelming him.

“Y/N?” Sam asked. “What’s wrong with Y/N?”

“She’s-” Dean’s voice failed him as his own voice filled his ears, a vision of his demon self in the dungeon, spewing the most vile and worst abuse on Y/N of all. He heard himself taunt you to give in and kill yourself. “We need to get back to the bunker Sammy.” The elder Winchester finally said to his brother through the tears. “Now.”

In the blink of an eye the brothers we well on their way down the highway and back to the bunker. Meanwhile, you were silently composing yourself and getting just a bit more drunk by the minute. As Cas invisibly watched you from the side of your room, you stumbled towards the bathroom, only to drunkenly trip back to the desk in the corner and scribble a quick “thanks guys, bye.” on the closest scrap of paper, and shuffle back into the bathroom. You let the water fill up the tub as Sam guided the Impala through the Kansas back roads, pushing the speedometer to it’s farthest limits and Dean began to cry with new fervor as he felt the pain of your guilt ridden sadness. His heart began to race as yours did, as you stepped into the full tub, still fully dressed. Cas’ heart dropped from his throat to his feet as you took the blade from your wrist and ran it vertically all the way up your arm and dropped it limply into the tub before repeating the process on the other side. As the bunker came into the brothers’ sight Dean let out a scream, because the sadness was seeping and being replaced with a chill he had only known within the grip of death; Cas was meanwhile working to heal the wounds as your vitality faded, and he tried to fix the loss of blood.

Dean burst through the bunker door like an enraged animal to reach you. Cas had just laid your unconscious body, now dry, on your bed. Sweat broke on his forehead as Dean thundered down the hall.

“Y/N.” He choked out, looking at your innate form.

“Now do you see?” Cas breathed, the strain of healing you apparent in his shaking voice.

“How do I ever? Why didn’t you just tell us, Y/N?”

You woke up to the sound of gentle snores in your ear. Dean was curled up next to your form on the bed.

As you felt the dull throb of your arms, your mind flashed bits of that drunken night.

A grunt alerted you that Dean had woken up.

“Hey there.” He said, feeling your ever lurking sadness in his chest.

“How? Why am I here?” You asked, mentally realizing that somehow they must have found you.

“Cas. He ah, fixed you up and got us here.” The elder Winchester said, a hand gently stroking your hair, a seemingly subconscious gesture.

“Oh.” You said, your heart swelling at their concern. Dean blushed at the love and shame coming from you, and frowned at the sadness of not succeeding.

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell any of us? We were here to help?” He asked.

“You made it clear you didn’t care. You-”

“That was not me, Y/N. Not the real me. I  know how much you are hurting.”

“You have no-”

“I do. Cas put a curse on me. I can feel the depression, the hate, the fear and sadness you’re still holding onto right now, Y/N.” Dean murmured gently, pulling you close as tears filled your eyes and thusly his as well.

“You can help?”

“I can’t make it go away right away, but over time. We can do this together, Y/N; just promise me to stay open with us. We want to help you.” You bit your lip and nodded, sniffling still.


“I love you, Y/N.” Dean murmured, pulling you into an even tighter hug. Your heart swelled with love and a hint of happiness in that moment. As Dean kissed your forehead, you smiled, and Dean no longer felt your sadness, Cas’ lesson was made clear. “We’ll get through this, Y/N. You’ll see.”

(more) fluffy olicity roadtrip fic

Please have more Olicity fluff (this time with a tiny bit of angst thrown in). Written in honor of yesterday being Stitch Day (6/26 - I had no idea this was a thing until yesterday).

Ohana Means Family

“Oliver Queen…do  you really expect me to believe that you’ve never seen ‘Lilo and Stitch?’”

They’d just been finishing a nice breakfast in bed when the topic of favorite Disney movies had come up. When Felicity had told him that “Lilo and Stitch” was her favorite, Oliver had casually mentioned that he’d never seen it. He’d never expected her to react quite like this.

She stands next to their hotel bed, wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else. Her hands are on her hips, face scrunched up in anger, glaring down at him from behind her glasses.

Oliver can’t help it; he laughs. She’s just so cute when she gets this. He has half a mind to tell her so, but at the sound of his laughter she crosses her arms over her chest, causing his shirt to ride up her body just enough, and he loves her so much right now he couldn’t bear to tease her. Instead, Oliver simply smiles at her and stands up.

“Yes, Felicity,” he says quietly, gently gripping her wrists and pulling her arms away from her chest. “I’ve never seen ‘Lilo and Stitch.’”

“But how?” Felicity asks, allowing him to pry her arms apart and hold her hands. “You grew up with a little sister.”

Oliver shrugs. “I watched a lot of movies with Thea. That just wasn’t one of them.”

Felicity shakes her head and pulls her hands away from his, turning her back on him. She starts mumbling under her breath, too quiet for him to hear. She bends over and starts collecting clothes, and Oliver is afforded a clear view of…well, everything. He can’t tear his gaze away, but before he can really take full advantage of the situation Felicity stands up, turns toward him, and throws his pants at him.

“Stop staring and put some clothes on. We’re going shopping.”

Keep reading

A Woman Defending Rap Music (Part One)

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a fan of rap music. It’s been my favorite genre since I was a small child. The very essence of my being is attached to this love I have for Hip Hop. Every morning I wake up, I say Good Morning Hip Hop. My favorite rapper, Killer Mike, admitted to a sold out crowd that it was one of his favorite things about following me on Twitter. I try my best to study the entire culture. I love graffiti, I always respect the DJ, and the dancers have just been some of the illest performers I’ve ever witnessed. It’s not every day that a lot of people get into heated debates and discussions about what era was better or who deserves the props. People don’t sit around and discuss the best producers in their spare time. They don’t have a list of favorite DJs. They barely even read liner notes. All of these things, I’ve done since I was still losing teeth. As a nearly 28 year old Black woman, these are still some of my favorite things.

Knowing how much I love Hip Hop as a culture, it’s no secret that I own books, movies, magazines and just spend as much time as humanly possible thinking about it. The music I’ve been fortunate enough to purchase and witness live is my favorite thing of all. A few years ago I started attending rap concerts. This is the thing that changed my life forever. Doing this allowed me to participate more fully in something that I’ve already dedicated so much of my life to. Even my screen saver is dedicated to my love of rap music (and Prince). Rap music has fascinated me for almost 30 years. I even started rapping at a young age as a result. Since around 4 and 5 years old, I’ve been reciting rap lyrics. The very first album I learned was Dr. Dre’s The Chronic. My parents introduced me to it. Like most things, I first came into contact with them at home. So it shouldn’t be a shocker here that I learned quite a few things that weren’t exactly suitable for children to know in the process. I say they were not suitable for a child, but I am forever grateful to my parents for not robbing me of the chance to learn these things mostly under their supervision.

As a kid, I spent so much time studying my mom and how she set up her stereo. Nothing was better than spending the weekend seeing my mom go from Teena Marie and L.T.D. to Snoop Dogg and Tupac. Yeah, my Momma picked out the music. I loved watching my mom dub tapes, or record new songs off the radio. My mom had the antenna going all the way up the wall and speaker wire everywhere. For the longest time, the stereo was the nicest, most well maintained thing in our apartment. Daddy knew the best gift to give Momma, besides jewelry, was a good stereo. Back then she had a Fisher entertainment system. I could never mess with it, but I would always want to. Her music was her music, but it quickly became the soundtrack to my life. Many Friday afternoons, I would come from school and Mommy would be cleaning and cooking. Keith Sweat’s Make It Last Forever album was how she set her equalizer. She always told me that was the perfect album for the task. I realize now that I spent a lot of time shadowing my mom, and I never fully understood why, back then. Now that she’s passed, I get it. She was larger than life for much of my entire life. God rest her soul.

It’s important that I tell you guys the backstory to my love of rap music. I remember reading about the Quad Studios shooting of 2Pac in the Washington Post. I’ve always lived in Prince George’s County, Maryland. That story shook me, because I was a big 2Pac fan. My childhood consisted of cartoons, listening to my parents’ music and music videos. 2Pac was the man around my house. My dad used to collect issues of The Source inside and old school desk. Don’t know where the hell that desk came from, but I remember it being in our apartment. On my favorite road trip of all time, the summer of 1996, we played All Eyez On Me all the way down I-95. To this day it’s still my favorite 2Pac album, even though Me Against The World is his best work. I just love being able to associate that memory with the music. How bittersweet it was to return from that trip and have to watch 2Pac get shot and ultimately die. I cried so much when I learned that 2Pac was dead. It hurt me immeasurably, at 8 years old. My mom couldn’t understand why I was crying, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop. That’s how I knew it was bigger than anything I would ever come to like or know in my life.

Let’s take time to pay attention to the names I’ve mentioned. The only woman, other than me and my Momma, is Teena Marie. Do women exist in rap music by the time I’ve become a fan? Absolutely. Am I a fan of women in rap music at this time? Hell yes. I love MC Lyte. I love Queen Latifah. “Ladies First” is my jam. Salt N Pepa are the bomb, I remember rapping along to Nonchalant on the radio. “5 O’Clock” was all over The Box, man. My Mom even had a copy of Bo$$’s only studio album. Missy hadn’t quite taken off on her own, but she was getting work behind the scenes. While it wasn’t the rap game, but she did rap, Left Eye was easily one of my favorites. Of course there were names like Lauryn (still in the Fugees), Da Brat released her platinum, with the assistance of Jermaine Dupri. Lil Kim was emerging as was Foxy Brown. There were so many more, though. Ms. Melody and Yo-Yo, Monie Love, Lady of Rage (who I love so much) and so many others. I’d heard of all of them, but I still had my clear favorites. So there are women in rap. At this point in time, I’m only really paying attention to Queen, Lyte, Left Eye and Rage, though. They just had the lyrics and images that I liked more than everyone else.

You don’t know how much I’ve always hated talking about image in rap music, because I believe the music matters the most. However, being a young girl who loved rap music, and coming up in the era of the music video, you saw a lot of different images, and a lot of the same ones on display. Many of the rappers I liked were the rappers nearly everybody liked. You liked 2Pac, Snoop, Ice Cube, LL Cool J and other alpha male types. These were the guys whose music I heard a lot of. Unfortunately, more often than not, they appeared to have a very specific idea of women in their music. Women decorated the videos and weren’t much else outside of sexual conquests or objects in the music. I say this at 27, because I know more about what the words mean now. Back then I was just learning the lines so I could perform along with the music. Did I know which ones where considered bad or offensive? Yes, because you got popped if Momma heard you using them, lol. In all seriousness, though, I’d heard those words in several places outside of rap music as well. Were they words that I used to describe myself? At the time, no. I had no real preference for any of these words except gangsta. I knew I wanted to be a gangsta because Scarface said it felt good to be one. There wasn’t a record going around saying “damn it feels good to be a hoe”.

For every song I really loved, there wasn’t a lot of anything directed to women, outside of sexual preference or sexual instructions. Which at the age I was listening to it, meant absolutely nothing to me because I wasn’t having sex, and wasn’t going to be for a minute. What would I have taken offense to at that point? I was a kid, and even when I entered my teens, I still didn’t feel like these records were written with me in mind. I accepted this as something that didn’t apply to me, mostly because I believed it didn’t. Call me crazy, but I didn’t think I had anything in common with the women in the music videos, because their particular style didn’t suit me. Back then it was spandex, short skirts and low cut tops. I’m still not into that look, to be honest. Hell, I just bought my first pair of cargo shorts last month. (If at all possible, I try to always be wearing pants, usually jeans and if not that, dress pants will do.) I formed no negative opinion about the women just for wearing tight clothes, but I saw that the rappers got to wear baggy jeans, sweatshirts, jerseys and hats, which seemed more like what I wanted to wear in the first place. Not until TLC popped up did that become a good look for women in music. So I just picked the cooler outfits.

What wasn’t cool was the fact that as I matured, I heard people tearing down my favorite genre. How I managed to ignore it during the 90s, I don’t really know. I knew Tipper Gore had her issues, C. Delores Tucker, Bob Dole and a bunch of other people didn’t like the messages in rap music, but I rode with the rappers. Did that mean there was nothing wrong? No. But I sided with the people who were anti-censorship, especially bullshit censorship. Claiming it incited violence and demeaned Black women, specifically, hit me differently than it should have. I didn’t think rap music was any more violent than the biggest action films out at the time. And I didn’t fully recognize how Black women were the only women who were being disrespected in the music. In fact, I still don’t. Because for as much music as I’ve bought, I’ve not heard bitch or hoe specified as any Black woman or modified to make certain to exclude white women or Asian women or Latina women. I don’t recall white women protesting hard rock artists. They didn’t feel that all of the white women glorified in rock music were whores or tramps. Yet rap got the bad rap for things that other genres were spared. I think it’s been carried in a manner that depends on Black women to be the most outraged by it, in order drive it out. But the problem there is that there are also Black women in the rap game. During the earlier extremely problematic era, rap music had groups like Oaktown’s 357 and Hoez With Attitude on the scene, who were the supposed women versions of their male contemporaries.

Hip Hop culture is absolutely nothing without Black women. We were at the park jams. We were dancing, we were writing and tagging buildings and trains, we were DJing and we were rapping. Rap music is problematic as fuck. The industry is some bullshit. It’s unwelcoming and designed to make people rich, who don’t give a damn about this culture or this art form. The fact remains, rap music needs Black women. It wouldn’t have the trends or the success or the appeal without us. Many men relied on the fact that women danced to their music or bought their albums or came to the shows. It’s not like these guys wanted only men to buy their music. If the objective was to get rich, why not try to profit from the largest possible audience? It makes no sense to refuse good money. However, in treating this like a consumer/business relationship, it requires that we take customer complaints seriously, and work to improve the product. That I know hasn’t always happened, but it cannot be said that rap music has always been toxic and detrimental to women. Despite the misogyny and the under to complete misrepresentation of women, there have been great achievements in recording excellence, by many of music’s more problematic people. In the next part I aim to discuss how as much as I’ve loved it, by no means has it been an easy line to walk.

Peace, Hip Hop & Purple Rain

5SOS Preference : Long Car Rides With Kids, Kids Get Restless *Requested*

Calum: “Chris, Jenny, stop fighting!” you yell turning around in your seat, eyeing your twins in the backseat. “You’re baby sister is in between you and if she starts crying you guys can deal with it!” “But mommy, we’ve been in the car forever!” Calum groaned in the drivers seat. “We’ve only been on the road an hour, we still have another hour or two, be patient you guys!” “But daddy, we’re tired of the car!” “Get used to it, it’s gonna be the only place you can be for the next few hours, longer if you guys keep up the fighting.” just then the baby started crying and Calum gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Told you guys it was going to be longer, now we have to pull over, thanks kids.”

Ashton: “Are we there yet?” Jolie asked and you shook your head, staring back at your daughter. “Not yet, we will be soon though, just be patient.” “But i’m bored!” she drug out the words and you sighed as Ashton kept staring straight ahead at the road. “Jolie, stop complaining. How about you take a nap, that should help pass some time in the car.” “Daddy!” she started to whine and you groaned, pressing your head to the car window, leaving Ashton to deal with the cranky four year old. “Jolie, you heard your mother, stop complaining, we’ll be there soon enough alright, then you can walk around and we won’t have to be in the car for a long while, okay?” “Daddy!” full out tears now and you shook your head at your husband. “Any toy stores near us?”

Michael: You guys had stopped at a gas station to refuel and you followed your three year old and your six year old as they walked out their stiff legs. “Candi, Jake, get over here. Daddy just finished putting gas in the car, we’ve got to get going again.” “Do we have too?” Jake asked and you smiled sadly at him. “I’m afraid so, but we’ve got some new movies for you guys to watch, is that okay?” “We’re tired of the car, mommy.” You nodded, you were tired of the car too, but you were nowhere near your destination yet. “Just get in the car, we’ve got a long trip ahead of us.” “Mommy!” little Candi was now on the ground crying and Michael came up to you. “They don’t want to get back in the car do they?” “Nope, help me get them in there?” you asked taking Jake. Michael nodded and grabbed the fussing Candi. “Let’s get back on the road.”

Luke: “The movie is over!” Caleb shouted and you groaned as you handed him another. “No, not this one! That’s a bad movie!” Luke turned off the radio. “Caleb, we have to put in a movie that your sister will like also, can’t have one where you like it and she doesn’t.” Caleb started to thrash in the seat. “Stupid movie! I don’t want to watch this movie!” His feet started to kick the back of Luke’s seat and Luke gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Caleb, knock it off, you hear me? You don’t need to kick my seat, that hurts and that can be dangerous! Stop!” Caleb wasn’t having it and you turned the portable dvd player off and he started thrashing some more and you shook your head. “Behave like your sister and then maybe we’ll put another movie back in.”

Even More Septiplier Prompts

• Jack getting sick and Mark trying to make him feel better with little things.

• A haunted house adventure full of jump scares and mannequins.

• Sitting on the back porch on a warm summer night watching the fireflies glow.

• Jack sitting by a cracked window listening to the rain and watching Mark sleep.  Maybe he has a warm cup of tea.

• Dancing around in their pajamas to a playlist they made for themselves.

• Cute sticky note love letters.

• Just cuddling in a dark room while it’s raining.

• Jack calling for Mark’s help when he’s been robbed.  They didn’t take anything but he was beaten.

• Jack calling Mark names like darling and honey trying to be funny but Mark actually has feelings.  Maybe it leads to an awkward confession?

• Painting the house and ending up painting each other.

• Mark wanting to sit on the balcony of the apartment and feel the rain.  

• Jack crying because he’s so happy that he’s come this far and Mark just hugging him and smiling into him.

• Neck nuzzles and shape tracing.

• The boys have to get shots, Jack is nervous.  What does Mark do?

• Eating hot sauce just got the heck of it.

• Road trip! Mark takes Jack to the Grand Canyon.  He reacts to the height and the lack of safety results at some parts.

• Going to the beach.  Mark watching Jack swim from a safe distance on the beach.

• Holding hands through hoodie sleeves under the same umbrella. Sharing the same pair of earbuds listening to “their song” and just appreciating the presence of the other.

(Pssst tag me so I can read ‘em please? Thanks)

I am just so excited to fall in love, see where life takes me, see where I end up, do crazy stupid things, talk about who I was before all of the lessons I learned, eat new foods, try new things, meet people, laugh til i cry, cry til i laugh, run and jump, play and scream, have long road trips, feel the warmth of the sun, watch the moon change phases and the stars shift hemispheres. See my friends grow and my family blossom. Dance the nights away and stay up til 4. Love people and give endlessly, see the beauty of my planet. Sip martinis and margaritas, ski down a slope, surf the coast, smell the flowers and watch my partners eyes wrinkle with laugh lines. Watch my forehead get lines from thinking too hard and my skin begin to spot from the time Ive been alive. Watch myself settle into who I become and watch a new generation bud. Tell them of the beautiful life I have lived. All of my adventures and lessons. Show them the photos and journals I kept. I cant wait to live this life and see how it all falls into place.

5 months

For 5 freaking months there’s going to be Oliver and Felicity together sleeping in the same bed under the same roof in different places doing ordinary things. They’re going to watch movies and shop and eat burgers and have road trips and smile and laugh and cry from laughing and they’re just going to be happy. Someone is bound to burn some toasts and more than once will their meal be burnt because they were preoccupied with you know what in the kitchen. There’s going to be a lot of cuddling and kisses and just a lot of happiness.

These thoughts kills me as much as they sustain me.

A road trip playlist for Vivian Apple, Part 2!

So here is the second part of my At The End Of The World playlist!

Shake It Out - Florence + the Machine
And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
So here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my rope
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me

Only Love - Ben Howard
Give me shelter, or show me heart
Come on love, come on love.
Watch me fall apart, watch me fall apart.

Playing God – Paramore
It’s just my humble opinion
But it’s one that I believe in
You don’t deserve a point of view
If the only thing you see is you

Get Home - Bastille (road trip travels)
We are the last people standing
At the end of the night
We are the greatest pretenders
In the cold morning light

Can You Hear Me Now - Jetta
I hate to see you fade into the black
And yes I love you
But I think it’s time for me to change my tracks

Dancing in the Dark - Bruce Springsteen
You can’t start a fire
Sitting ‘round crying over a broken heart
This gun’s for hire
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark

In My Mind - Amanda Palmer
And it’s funny how I imagined
That I could win this win-less fight
Maybe it isn’t all that funny
That I’ve been fighting all my life
But maybe I have to think it’s funny
If I want to live before I die
And maybe it’s funniest of all
To think I’ll die before I actually see
That I am exactly the person that I want to be.

Gotta Serve Somebody - Bob Dylan (Frick)
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

All the Faces - Creed Bratton
All the faces that we see each and every day
When I get home at night, you’re the face I need.

Empire - Ella Henderson (Viv and Harp)
And through the smoke,
I see you’re burning like a ray of hope
I found the fire and now the ashes glow
Oh, come alive
And now that I’m awake
I’m not afraid, I’m letting go tonight

I was glad to see people liked the Part 1 playlist, so I hope you all enjoy this one as well!

Pieces of Calum

“You’re killing yourself, Cal,” you remind him for the third time since he’s been home as the two of you stand under a street lamp, the moon hanging low in the sky.

He doesn’t even wince anymore. Instead, a smug smile pulls at his lips. “I know. You’ve told me that,” he states, his voice much less emotionless than his expression lets on. And instead of feeling guilty about or afraid of your words, he takes a long drag.

You cross your arms, goosebumps rising over your skin. This isn’t Calum anymore. No, the guy who left to tour the world with his band is not the same guy who’s standing in front of you now. This isn’t your best friend. Today has been rough, to say the least.

He can tell that you’re cold, walking towards you and setting his hand on your side in an attempt to draw you closer. “Don’t touch me,” you say softly. When you met him at his house after he arrived back in Sydney you expected everything to pick up from where you both left off. You thought he’d be the same old Calum, just with a lot of stories to tell. But he was anything but. He’s more tense. He gets frustrated easily. His speech, which wasn’t very clean in the first place, is now utterly cringe-worthy. He’s not playful anymore, or warm. That’s what it is. He’s cold, now. His aura; his personality. And so when he touches you, it feels like a stranger’s hand. It only chills you further.

His body goes rigid, thick eyebrows furrowing in confusion at first, then something else as he drops his hand. You know this look. He’s angry. “What’s your deal?” he snaps all of a sudden, taking the cigarette from between his lips to talk. “You’ve been acting shitty all day. You said you were excited to see me when you texted, but ever since I’ve gotten here it’s like you’re punishing me,” he goes on, staring straight at you with near black irises while a wisp of grey floats up from the edge of the burnt stick. “I wasn’t expecting you to be like this.”

At his last heated statement you gaze at him in disbelief, a part of you cracking open as well. “Me? You weren’t expecting me to be like this? Have you seen yourself, Calum? Everything about you is different. You’re acting like you’re above everything else. Like your old life is just a bad dream you’re trying to forget about,” you burst, desperation laced in your tone. Absentmindedly, your fingers curl into your palm, pinning the edges of your sleeves against the cold skin.

Why did this have to happen? It was bad enough, knowing that he’d be gone for so long. It was hard enough saying goodbye. It killed you. You had ached every day for him to come back, and now that he’s a few steps away he feels farther than he ever was. And as your thoughts buzz loudly in your head without stopping, more words tumble out. “Do you think you’re too cool for everything now? Now that you’ve gone and seen the world and partied and smoked you’re a king, and the rest of humanity is just a part of your kingdom?” Your breath has gone ragged now, upset and overwhelmed with how the day had gone. With how Calum had changed. And although he opens his mouth, you don’t allow any words to leave it.

“What’s going to happen the next time you come back from touring? Am I going to be the one you’re too good for next?” you cry out. “Are you going to force yourself to forget about me?” It’s only now that you realize how blurry your vision is, liquid pooling in your eyes and clouding the image of him looking back at you with a blank face. You’re not just angry that he’s been a douche. You’re scared that you’ve lost him. The guy you could be vulnerable with and tell everything to. The guy who’d make your stomach cramp from laughing so hard. You thought that the late nights might be gone, the random road trips, the quiet moment spent watching the droplets of rain roll down the windows while you laid across his bed together.

You turn away, wiping your eyes with your sleeves and trying to stop crying. He hasn’t cared about anything else today–why would this be any different? You feel a little embarrassed by your outburst and your tears and know there’s nothing left to say; he might be angry still, or simply indifferent to it all. And you don’t want to be here to see any more pieces of Calum fall away, shattering onto the pavement and around the stranger in front of you. So you start walking.

You only make it a few steps before you feel his hand on your shoulder, stopping you and forcing you to turn around. When your eyes meet, his other hand slowly moving up to cradle the side of your face, you notice that the cigarette has been abandoned. It’s still for a moment while his gaze trains in on your face, and you don’t have time to read his eyes before his full lips crash against yours. You weren’t expecting it, but once you feel the soft skin you tentatively move your mouth in response.

The touches, broken only for intakes of air, taste like nicotine. You’re left breathless once he pulls away, and when you look at each other you know that he’s not all gone. You can see him in there. You just felt him. And there’s warmth under the new persona. But you’re still scared it won’t be the same.

“I’m never going to forget you. No matter where I go, or what I do. Okay?” he promises evenly, large eyes watching you. You know he’s being honest, his hoarse voice a testament to it. All you can manage is a nod before your hands go to his shirt, fisting the fabric and pulling his chest back to yours to connect your lips. Calum’s still there, and the pieces are still lying around. And you’ll pick up every one that you can, and put them back together.