more stupid tags


Alec + jackets/outerwear in 2a

anonymous asked:

I saw someone headcanoning that Sero and Bakugou had this friends with benefits thing in the past in which they would make out sometimes just for fun. I really liked that idea. How would you think Kaminari and Kirishima would react to that? Do you think they'd get jealous or?

Anonymous said to buckykingofmemes: Ok but talking about salsa and swing I gotta ask if Steve’s done any dance sketches, it is in my contract as a social dance nerd

steve actually has a ton of dance sketches. he used to come with me when i wanted to go dancing and use it as life drawing practice. said it helped him get the unusual poses better. 

anyway, this sketch  is a really old one, from back before the war. that lovely lady im dancing with is my baby sister becca. becca and i used to do swing competitions together, and we were an unstoppable team, since we’d been dancing together since before she could walk. we danced with other people a lot, but when it came to competitions becca and i were pure magic. i was a pretty big guy and she was always tiny, so i could whip her through steps and lifts like lightning. and she always trusted me to catch her, since id been tossing her in the air for as long as she could remember, and never once let her drop. the two of us would invent lifts nobody else in brooklyn would dare to try. 

sometimes we roped stevie into helping, because he wasnt much bigger than becca, and we didnt have mirrors to practice with. so if we wanted to see how a move looked, we’d teach stevie becca’s lift and she’d watch and figure out what needed changing. steve had no rhythm at all, but he was usually game for the lifts. later, in the star spangled show, they tried to make use of some of those, but he still didnt have the steps down, so it never worked out.

after i got drafted, becca kept dancing. by the time she was thirty, she held the title of brooklyns longest-running swing queen, with fifteen consecutive wins. 

Your weekly reminder that:

  • Victor Nikiforov’s name is officially spelled with a C as decided by the show’s writers
  • The YOI Wikia is WRONG, they know it and they refuse to correct their mistake, therefore invalidating their role as a source of objective, factual information. If they can’t even get a main character’s name spelled correctly, then none of their information can be considered reliable because who knows what else they changed just because the admins wanted. (ETA: At the very least now they have a note that acknowledges Victor as the canon spelling, but why they insist on keeping the incorrect one is beyond me)
  • If you write it with a K because “that’s more correct in Russian”, I hope you also write Atabek Altyn, Yuriy Plisetsky (or Yuri Plisetski) and Akuseeru, Ruuppu and Ruutsu Nishigoori, because those are more accurate and correct spellings in relation to those characters’ countries of origin, and if you don’t use those spellings, then you don’t care about being “culturally appropriate” and are just being stupid :D

If you spell it with a K for aesthetics… I mean that’s your prerrogative and I’m not gonna bitch at you for it but I’ll also never undestand why

Mon-El: *appears on most part of the episode*
Antis: “wow, he’s taking screen time from Kara and other important minor characters. The writers should give up on him and give us, the true what we want”

Mon-El: *appears only for like 7mins*
Antis: “wow, Man Hell hasn’t done shit. What’s he doing there?“

Mon-El: *breathes*
Antis: “Mon Ew is the worst character ever. I hope he dies and Kara returns to her own story with a better love interest. I hate Chris Wood. He’s so problematic. Please direct all the hate to him.”
Fanfic (Risingwood): Say It With A Shirt

Another little short scene thing that I’ll never find a place for in an actual fic, but that I still wanted to write.

I can assure you it’s just as stupid as Butter On Rye, if not more so.

You have been warned.

[AO3 Mirror]

~* * *~

“Morning, Jon,” Ryan greeted, dropping a kiss on top of Jon’s head.

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a weak croak. He scowled and opened one of his desk drawers. Ryan raised an eyebrow as he rummaged around inside.

The dark-haired man resurfaced with a triumphant smile on his face, brandishing a shirt that read, I lost my voice.

Ryan blinked.

“And you got that printed on a shirt because…?”

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That’s GAY | Michael Mell x Reader

Originally posted by protect-michael-mell

this was based off an otp prompt that went something like
A: I love you!
B: That’s GAY
A: …
B: …
B: wait I love you too

( also this is my first fic that I wrote so don’t get your panties in a wad if it’s bad ?? like i know ok ?? and it’s probably ooc too oops )
( also y/n means your name but you probably know that. also so that this could be gender neutral I did they/them pronouns and sometimes girl/boy !! )
( word count: 1,000+ )

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“Mulder? Are you in here?”

Her heart is still racing from the mix of adrenaline and fierce, fierce hope. Could he really be back? Is he moments from stepping out of the shadows and wrapping her in his arms and telling her everything is going to be okay? Her entire body is bowstring-taut with anticipation as she listens for any sign of movement within the apartment.

When her gaze lands on the desk, on the space where her laptop is now conspicuously absent, the sight is so unexpected that she stares in disbelief, the truth of the situation not really hitting her fully until she physically walks over and picks up the disconnected power cables. That’s when she knows, for certain, that of course it was too much to hope for.

Whoever her landlord saw, it wasn’t Mulder.

Something in her deflates, and all at once she feels shaky and nauseated again. She barely makes it to the bathroom in time, but it doesn’t even matter; nothing comes up. Unsteadily, she sits on the edge of the bathtub and rests her head in her hands. Is this how her body is going to respond to every strong emotional moment now?  

She tells herself it’s her investigator’s instinct that leads her to grab a jacket and keys and head out through the rain to Alexandria. She rationalizes that whoever stole her computer might also want to take Mulder’s and that going to his apartment might either help her catch them or prevent it from happening. Her decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that misses him so badly the thought of spending tonight alone in her own bed is suddenly unbearable.

(It’s not as though she will be any less alone at his place. The very notion of feeling closer to him merely by surrounding herself with his belongings is completely irrational.)

Calm determination sustains her for the drive over, her resolve only slipping momentarily once she’s standing in front of his apartment door, force of habit and muscle memory causing her to tap out their knock against the wood. The sound makes her breath hitch, and she can’t help the irrational surge of hope that somehow this has all just been a terrible dream.

But of course there is no answer, and she swallows back the bitter disappointment as she pulls out his key and unlocks the door herself.


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Will someone please explain to me how “you” can think a poem or a piece of prose is ‘unequivocally’ about “you”? Have I tagged “you”? No? It’s not about “you”. Have I told “you” “you” have inspired it? No? It’s not about “you”. Have I inferred in any way that it may as well be about “you”? No? It’s not about “you”. Get your fucking head out of your ass. The world does not revolve around “you”. My writing sure as hell does not revolve around “you” unless I tell “you” it does. Are we clear? Yes? Fuck off now. “You” will not ruin my Tumblr experience with your insane insistence and unfounded accusations. “YOU” are NOT my muse. “You” have never been my muse. “You” will never be my muse. Get off your damn horse and walk the road back to your own humble beginnings.


This is my bujo spread for the week so far 💘

from my studygram

google search “7 boys who ruined my life”

“we’re moving out” is honestly the better coming out video

“Learned to play in college. I was that annoying asshole who played in the student union, trying to seem cool and impress girls. Didn’t play after that, until one day I found a ukulele while at a refugee camp with HUSTL. Everyone loved it, and I remembered how powerful music can be.”

“Guitars are much smaller than you lead me to believe”-Jaal, probably

He can probably only play like 3 songs. But I imagine him playing this.