there’s something really cute about how girls have a habit of trying to make anything difficult into a pleasant experience. like my new roommates just planned to get together to discuss contracts, but immediately suggested we do it with movies and nail-painting and chocolate. my friends and i used to dress up and do fun makeup for our exams. whenever my mom took me to doctors appointments when i was a kid, she’d brush my hair and put it up with lots of cute clips. girls are always trying to make things softer, or reduce the everyday stress in life. it’s such a nice way to be.
ur friend who is slowly starting to understand feminism: hey… isn’t it like… isn’t it like kinda fucked up that boys can just do like… whatever they want? and girls cant?
you: yaaaaas yas keep digging gurl, feel the inequality of the patriarchy… go offfff
i miss being in a relationship and staying up late on the phone or laying in bed with one another wide awake just talking about nonsense in the middle of the night while holding each other or rubbing your thumb along their hand. i miss surprise dates and staying in for movie nights or just running errands together because that’s time spent together and getting butterflies even when you text them.
I didn’t want to do this unless I didn’t have a choice I….im unable to currently afford living in my apartment and I could really use any help anyone has to offer with paying my rent due by the 3rd of the month. Reasons I really didn’t want to get into but to put it simply I kicked out my last roommate from the past 7 months because of abuse. Mainly mental and verbal, I won’t name drop and I won’t say some of it wasn’t my own fault, but living with them was driving me to a place I couldn’t stand anymore and I’d rather struggle than be even more depressed than usual and deal with someone that made me very uncomfortable.
My rent is over $1,000 and I only get paid every two weeks and my checks are hardly $600 on a good week. I’m trying hard to find a better paying job, I have a degree and even that’s not helping. It’s tough. I also have my cat and honestly I’d rather starve before I let anything happen to her because she’s all I have. She’s taken care of just fine but I’m really stressed out about rent and upcoming bills. Honestly if everyone donated a dollar I’d actually have enough to cover the other half of rent for the next 2 months at least which would help tremendously. I can draw things to help with donations, I don’t believe my art work is amazing or anything and it’s traditional but I’d appreciate any help I can get so my cat and I don’t get evicted. My PayPal is email@example.com. I’m doing it this way instead of typing out a gofundme. Please please help if you can, thank you.
the japanese text says that the fan asked jin if he’s been studying japanese well, (maybe that’s also why he answered in japanese XD) and then he stole a glance at yoongi beside him before finally answering the post it
I had some free time tonight, so here’s the first bit of a thing I’m working on. ~500 words.
Stiles’ mysterious new roommate shows up right as Stiles and Scott are sliding their second tray of ginger snaps out of the oven. Stiles thought it’d be a nice way to welcome him, break the ice a little, all that. He’s also planning to make some sugar cookies in case D. Hale has less adventurous tastes. Never let it be said that Stiles Stilinski doesn’t plan ahead.
“I’ll get it!” Stiles shouts, and opens the door still wearing his cartoon cat apron and oven mitts. Cue immediate regret and the world’s most horrifying full-body blush.
And maybe Stiles should’ve suspected that someone with a username like camaro89 wouldn’t want to sit around the kitchen table eating cookies and playing Scrabble, but still. This guy looks like he could be a volunteer firefighter or ex-marine or maybe, given the glare that’s currently melting Stiles into the floor, something closer to professional assassin.
No doubt about it, Hale could squish Stiles underfoot like an insignificant bug if he wanted to. (His eyes say he totally wants to.)
This would probably be the appropriate time for Stiles to introduce himself. Instead, he just gapes unattractively, because he has no social skills with people who are not Scott.
“You’re the Polish kid with the spare room,” Hale finally asks. No question mark anywhere in that sentence.
Stiles nods mutely.
Hale nods back, like that’s that, and shoulders his way into the apartment. Stiles scrambles backwards to avoid getting caught in the face by the dude’s duffle bag.
Scott pokes his head out from the kitchen. “Yo, dude, your key’s already in your room. First door on the right. You need any help with anything? We made cookies if you want some.”
Hale pauses ominously in the living room. The stare he fixes Scott with could strip flesh off bones.
“Or not,” Scott amends hastily. “Whatever works for you.”
That gets no response. Hale goes off down the hall without a backwards glance. He closes his door quietly but firmly behind him. There’s a click as he pushes the lock in, and then dead silence.
Stiles won’t lie, he’s feeling pretty intimidated right now.
Scott shivers. “That guy is a serial killer.”
“Is not,” Stiles says, unconvincingly.
Scott squints suspiciously in the direction of Hale’s bedroom. “He so is, oh my god. Everybody knows serial killers are, like, the only people on the planet who don’t like cookies.”
Stiles is pretty sure he didn’t know that, but it makes sense.
“This is why you don’t go shopping for roommates on Craigslist, Stiles.”
It’s definitely too late now to un-rent that room, but maybe Stiles can quietly flee back to Poland while Hale is sleeping. If he sleeps, that is. Maybe he just does push-ups in his room all night, or lies in a coffin staring up at the ceiling and digesting the blood of his victims.
“Anyway.” Stiles shoves at Scott’s shoulder. “C’mon, move, I want to drown my sorrows in ginger snaps.”
Requested: One where Shawn and the reader are out and pap like grab her arm and Shawn freaks out and gets mad.
The shouts are deafening and the flashes are blinding. You don’t know why you’re in the front of Shawn and his whole team, but you are. Shawn is close behind you, so at least you have that as comfort, but the only thing you want right now is to get out of this crowd and into the safety of the building. The paparazzi are shouting Shawn’s name, and some of them are even shouting your name, trying to get your attention, but you aren’t about to give it to them, not at all.
You feel a hand on your arm, and just by the way it is gripping you, you know it isn’t Shawn’s or his bodyguards, which spreads alarm through you. When you turn to look, you notice it’s a paparazzi who has grabbed you in an attempt to get your attention. It worked, but before you even have a chance to do or say anything about it, Shawn’s already by your side. “Don’t touch my girl.” He practically growls in the paparazzi’s face, and the pap immediately lets go. Shawn wraps his arm around you, leaning down to say into you ear, “I’m sorry baby, we’re almost inside.” And he keeps his arm securely around you. The two of you fight through the crowd together to make it to the lobby of the hotel. When you’re inside, he stops and really looks at you, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?
You just shake your head, “No, he didn’t really do anything.” You tell Shawn, somewhat surprised at how harsh his reaction was over something so small.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just worry. I don’t like people touching you when you didn’t give them permission to.” And you can tell he’s still angry and even flustered by what happened back there.
You lean into him, grateful. “Thank you, Shawn.” You tell him, “Thank you for protecting me and loving me so well.”