new strap

And I don’t want to be so sad that we are who we are
Cause we had no control (x)

I would like it if ishida stopped with this “reminder” thing he has going on. 

2

i know we saw him with a staff thing but like gu ys.

matt is a fucking camper and you know it. although it’s gonna be real bitch sniping without glasses 

bonus:

tfw u dont wanna let ur cool new rebel friends you’ve literally been blind for months now

I am actually crying at these new straps…

LOOK AT EVERYONE HAVING FUN TOGETHER!
LOOK AT HOW IN LOVE VICTOR AND YURI ARE.
LOOK AT YURI AND YURIO HANGING OUT TOGETHER AND MESSING ABOUT WEARING EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES!
LOOK AT YURIO AND OTABEK CHILLING TOGETHER LIKE THEY’RE FROM A MURDER MYSTERY!
LOOK AT SEUNG GIL AND YURI ENJOYING DOG TIME TOGETHER!
LOOK AT CHRIS AND VICTOR HAVING CHAMPAGNE TIME TOGETHER!
LOOK AT YURIO AS A CHILD LOOKING UP TO VICTOR.
LOOK AT YURI BEING GOOD WITH KIDS.
LOOK AT VICTOR LOVING MAKKACHIN.

LOOK AT THESE PRECIOUS MOMENTS OMFG.

From Injury To Recovery, A Ballerina Fought To Retire On Her Own Terms

In 2013, acclaimed ballerina Wendy Whelan underwent reconstructive surgery that left her hobbled, both physically and emotionally. For Whelan, it wasn’t just her career with the New York City Ballet that was at stake; it was also her artistic voice.

“It was terrifying to lose that mode of expression that I was so in touch with, that I so loved, that I so cultivated for my whole entire life,” she says.

Whelan, who was 46 at the time, feared that she would never dance again. But after months of rehabilitation and physical therapy, she returned briefly to the company she had danced with for more than three decades.

Whelan took her final bow with the New York City Ballet in October 2014 — an experience she likens to shedding skin. “Everything I experienced as an adult happened as a member of New York City Ballet,” she says. “To leave it as an adult [after] going into it as basically a child was scary, really scary.”

Now, nearly three years after leaving ballet, Whelan continues to perform contemporary dance. She says she feels liberated in her new life: “I’ve been strapped in — physically strapped in to pointe shoes, strapped into a leotard and tights, my hair’s been strapped up — for my whole entire life. … I was terrified to be unconstricted, and now I don’t know another way I’d rather be.”

The documentary Restless Creature chronicles Whelan’s injury, recovery and final performance with her company.

dan: i have decided the truth about my mysterious bahamas travel will be revealed in a new video tomorrow so strap yourselves in it’s a wild ride

dan, tomorrow: I GOT INTO A FIGHT WITH MY BOYFRIEND AND RAN AWAY TO THE BAHAMAS?! *high by the beach by lana del rey starts playing*

Diana Prince + “Will you marry me?”

You weren’t sure what the thread count was but her sheets were soft like the clouds and smelled like home and as she cuddled against your naked chest, sleeping soundly despite the layer of sweat that coated her, she looked more like a goddess than she ever could on a battlefield.

She was like a star, in your eyes at least. She was so bright and beautiful (and hot) and timeless.

You frowned. She was so old, so forever and you weren’t. You were a mortal that’d age and die and she was this Amazonian goddess that’d forever be the same. You were a grain of sand and she was the beach.

“Why are you thinking so loud?” she murmured.

“Since when could you read minds?” Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled sweetly at you. Her lips were so pink and kissable and she was amazing and you were so lucky that she chose to be with you when she could have anybody on Earth.

“I can’t, I just know you.” You ran your fingers through her hair, careful not to yank the tangles.

“Now,” she ran the tip of her nose against the underside of your jaw, “What has got you thinking.” You sighed.

“It’s nothing,” you tired. You smiled at her, abet it was a weak, sad excuse for a smile but you tried. You didn’t want to worry her with what was going on in your mind. But the look in her dark eyes make you wonder if she even needed the lasso of truth or if you were just so in love with her you’d tell her anything.

Probably the second one, but hey the first option might also be somewhat the truth.

“Do I matter, to you? I mean you’re a goddess Di, and I’m not. I’m going to grow old and die and you’re not. You’re going to be here looking like this and falling in love with someone new and, and I’ll be ninety years old in some retirement home and still in love with you.” Diana stilled and frowned at you, you hated when she frowned, it never looked right, she was made to smile and laugh and be perfect not frown and brood, that was Bruce’s job.

You sat up when she rolled over to the edge of the bed; for a moment you thought she’d leave you there, but instead she opened up her bedside table and pulled out a watch. It was old, thought the leather straps were new and the metal was somewhat shiny it was worn from being rubbed.

She sat up in bed and looked at you. There was a small smile on her face and her dark eyes held so much love you wondered if your heart would burst because she had on the same expression you did whenever you looked at her.

“The man who gave me this watch told me about marriage. He said marriage is something where two people cherish and love and honor one another until they die, and I know you’ll die long before me but,” she held out the watch to you, your heart was beating so fast you wondered if this is what Barry felt like all the time, “I want that, with you. I want to spend a fraction of the time I have with you. I want to be with you until the day you die.”

“Why?” You didn’t realize you were crying tears of joy until Diana wiped one away. You did the same to her.

“Because I love you.” This wasn’t the first time you’ve heard her say it, in fact the first time she said it felt like nothing compared to this time stopping moment.

“So,” she asked, “Will you marry me?

@v-writings // @pizzaplanethq // @dicckgrayson