mes préférés

MC is going to go get her hair done
  • *she goes to walk in but sees two familiar faces*
  • MC: oh my god is that zen and jumin
  • MC: thEY'RE GETTING THEIR HAIR DONE TOGETHER?
  • Jumin: You know, I'm glad we made up.
  • Zen: Me too, you're not that bad trust fu-
  • MC: *runs in while taking pictures on her phone* ME THREE I AM ALSO GLAD
  • Zen: *falls out of seat* NO MC DONT SHOW ANYONE NBONONONONONONONONO
  • MC: I'M ALREADY SENDING THEM TO SEVEN
  • Zen: NOOO OO O O O O. O OO. O O O STOP
  • Jumin: You're ashamed to be seen with me, zen?
  • Zen: No it's - it's not that just you know you got that... gay rumor thing and I just don't want the ladies to be put off
  • Jumin: *stands up and puts his arm around zen* MC take a picture quick
  • Zen: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
  • MC: oh my god best day ever

*Doyoung texting Haechan*

Doyoung: HOLY SHIT I THINK I JUST BROKE MY LEG

Haechan: I’m worrying about Mark more than I’m worrying about you

*5 minutes later*

Haechan: HOLY SNICKER DOODLES YOU ACTUALLY DID BREAK YOUR LEG

Doyoung:???

Haechan: lol I thought you were lying like the snake you are

youtube

On this day in music history: February 22, 1982 - “Forget Me Nots” by Patrice Rushen is released. Written by Patrice Rushen, Freddie Washington and Terri McFaddin, it is the biggest hit for the singer, songwriter and musician from Los Angeles, CA. When her sixth album “Posh” falls short of the Gold plus sales of the previous release “Pizzazz”, Rushen resolves to take more time working on her next project, taking a more proactive role in its promotion and not rely solely on support from the record label. While working on material, Patrice comes up with a chord progression while playing electric piano in the studio. Her bassist “Ready” Freddie Washington falls in behind her with a bass line, and along with songwriter Terri McFaddin, Rushen comes up with the chorus, melody and lyrics that become “Forget Me Nots”. Cut at Conway Studios in Hollywood, CA, the track features Rushen (electric piano,  synthesizers, and background vocals), Washington (bass) Melvin Webb (drums), Gerald Albright (alto sax) and Roy Galloway (background vocals). Confident that they have a hit on their hands, Rushen and her co-producer Charles Mims, Jr. set up a meeting with executives at Elektra to play them “Forget Me Nots” and the rest of the new album. Expecting them to be just enthusiastic, both are shocked when the label tells them point blank that they think the song will flop. Still reeling from the meeting, Rushen calls up her friend, producer Quincy Jones and tell him about what had happened. Jones suggests that she hire her independent record promotion people to work “Forget Me Nots” at radio, and that if it takes off, the record company will change their tune. Patrice withdraws her life savings from the bank, and hires record promoters to work the single. The song is not only an immediate smash on R&B radio and club dance floors, but also receives play on Top 40 pop stations that have mostly shunned black artists after the demise of Disco. Elektra president Joe Smith quickly calls another meeting with Rushen, apologizing for being wrong, and giving her back all of the money she spent promoting her own record. “Forget Me Nots” spends six weeks at #4 on the Billboard R&B singles chart on May 8, 1982, three weeks at #2 on the Club Play chart on May 22, 1982, and peak at #23 on the Hot 100 on July 3, 1982. “Forget Me Nots” has a long life after its run on the charts, being sampled on Will Smith’s chart topping single “Men In Black”, and having its chorus being interpolated into George Michael’s hit “Fastlove”. The success of “Forget Me Nots” turns the accompanying album “Straight From The Heart” into the best selling album of Patrice Rushen’s career, moving more than a million copies in the US alone.

REUBEN “BEAU” BEAUFORT. 22. ALIEN FANATIC/HAUNTED TOUR GUIDE. DAWN.

embarrassing first name + digging yourself deeper + the face + old money + stepford smiler + princely young man + that came out wrong + screw the rules, i have connections! + bunny-ears lawyer + conspiracy theorist + determinator + the insomniac + seeker archetype // he lays back amongst the leaves and the gravel, his eyes—as always—directed above in constant search. he lives between the known and unknown, a precipice he wants more than anything to bridge. sometimes, when he finds himself gazing amongst the stars for traveling beams of light, he wonders what he might say to them. he hasn’t ever gotten anywhere further than, “i am here. i am alive.”

once upon a time, perhaps beau—yes, beau not reuben bc his parents named him after a sandwich—had it in himself to be a “normal” child. as one of Those beauforts, he comes from enough means to pursue some normal activities and perhaps he could have even gone to college. he’s certainly bright enough. and he very well might have… were it not for the aliens. one night as a kid, wandering around with a friend, beau falls down a hill near west erie. he’s taken to the emergency room, where he proclaims that he saw a ufo. and, despite all evidence to the contrary—he suffered a concussion in the fall—beau’s story has never changed. “concussions don’t cause hallucinations,” he might say, “and they don’t cause time loss.” at the time of the fall—and the time of the sighting—beau’s watch stopped. some might argue that it was damaged in the fall, but when he had it checked out no damage could be found that would have caused it to stop. from then on, beau found himself at ufo sights around the country, financed by his parents’ wealth. he’d never miss a day of school—education is important, “stay in school kids!”—but the rest of his time he spent on his search. nowadays, beau felt the need to do something else with his days now that he’s an “adult” and all that grossness, so he’s working as a haunted tour guide for human hauntings, inc., hopefully?? tdlr; he’s basically a mix of richard gansey iii and fox mulder so throw everything at him!!

why is thg rp so ugly lmao

Hi I’m a libra born in the year of the rat. I lie to myself and others every single day. I work very hard and I am successful with my work, but I put up a fake front to get that work done. I have hid behind approximately five (5) fake personalities my entire life. My charming personality front has got me through almost every horrible situation I’ve ever been in and I am skilled at winning verbal arguments. I have almost no close friends my age because I am socially inept. I somehow became a mentor figure to a few children that look up to me even though I am probably a terrible role model. I crave attention. I have clinical depression. 

anonymous asked:

I think I might start watching Hunter X Hunter bcuz of how you draw them tbh. Like idk what it is, but your art is rlly motivating me to watch it. I love your art regardless of what it is and I just, omg. You should know how blessed erryone is to have you alive like omfg. I might be praising a bit too much but idfc. You deserve it ❤❤

akdsjgklasjdgkljasdlkgjaklsdgja, i’m smiling so so so hard! ahhh! this message really means a lot to me and actually came at a really good time–i’ve been nervous to draw more multi-fandom art even though I really want to and to know that you love it regardless of what it is? It just makes me choke up a lot.. . thank you so much for this message, thank you so much, it’s a blessing that you are alive anon! ahh! and yes, please watch hunter x hunter it’s a really great anime and its characters are really lovable :)

ALARIC MORDAUNT

Sleep escapes him constantly, crawling this way and that way until his mind can no longer stand the chase. He rises from his bed, sheets dropping to the floor as he stands before the window of his gloomy home. At these hours, Alaric does not think about whether his father once stood at this spot, his mind twisted in thoughts. He does not think about how he sleeps where his mother died, just as his head had crowned. He does not think about the work ahead of him that day, the endless dirge of funeral processions and townspeople to be buried underground.

No, these moments, as he stares out into the awakening dawn, a pinkish hue framing the backdrop of his town, he saves for her.

Worry creases his brows and knots his stomach as he frets for her safety. His larkspur, constantly endangered, but not from a foe Alaric can face. Not from a menace he can protect her from. He can’t shield her from her own body or the seizures that cause her to convulse, putting her in peril each and every time. He’s powerless to stop them, powerless to help, and he can’t help the pain that overcomes him when he thinks that, one day, she could be lost to him.

One day, his larkspur, his Queen of Spring, could be pulled back to the underworld for the last time for her eternal rest.

He thinks that if she passes, truly, he’ll feel it through some sort of telepathy ingrained in his heart.

If she leaves me, I’ll know.

The thought gives him no comfort. He’s a scientist, a realist, too self-possessed with knowledge to give himself over to superstition. A seizure could take Bobbi from this world and he would never know until the whispers of the town met his ears. He can only imagine them now:

Bobbi Scoutson, the girl made of flowers, has wilted. Decaying blooms have framed her head like a crown as thorns twine through her silken hair. Soon enough, she’ll be thrown back to the earth.

For we are all dust and to dust we shall return.

But not, of course, before her coffin sits within his parlor, her face made up to reflect the life her vessel once held within it.

He knows, but won’t say, that this job will only end in failure.

After all, how can a mere flame compare to the sun? A false imitation could never emulate the endlessly burning ball of fire that fills Bobbi’s frame, pulling her lips into a wide grin and somehow lighting a match within him that pries his lips into a half-smile.

His father always told him to be careful of flames lest his son and heir be burned. If Alaric could speak to his father now, he’d tell him that he doesn’t want to be burned by his flame.

He wants to be engulfed.

And, if his sun burns out, he can only imagine the darkness that will devour him whole in her wake.

Let me tell you a story of a boy made from shadows who falls in love with the sun. He’d rather be burned by her flames than lose her and return to darkness once more.