probably just overlooked


Is it me or is it just weird that the most annoying attention seekers get the undying attention of the majority of the internet? People trying to make a living of their art barely get noticed and their art is usually 10x better than the people who complain about nothing? Just because you complain and get a lot of followers, doesn’t mean they care. You get a lot of followers then complain about not have friends and abandon those who had a great personality. 

Popular artist who complain then get hundreds of messages saying “oh we care” from people they don’t know should know they don’t. Then complain about getting used for popularity. I’ve been dropped by people because they got popular and thought I wasn’t as good as them because I didn’t have thousands of followers as well.

Everyone has something to whine about but its the internet. Who actually cares? 

Theres things I worry about like how I can’t deal with my bipolar disorder, how I’m afraid to tell my mom I got a boyfriend in Ohio, how much I hate moving constantly, blah blah blah. Y’all don’t care. Y’all don’t know me.

Anyway my whole message is, support artists who try. Support artist who enjoy doing what they do. 

arianna’s nice

I managed to get to that ‘hidden treasure!’

(I’m pretty decent at games, but I am usually pretty bad at stuff like this so this is amazing to have accomplished it!) 

I know I’m way too into this, but the colonel seems pretty suspicious

From when he is first introduced, it’s clear the colonel has anger issues and a special sort of hatred towards Mark. After Mark is found dead, he is caught arguing with the mayor about something related to Mark’s death. If that isn’t suspicious enough he very nonchalantly is sitting in a chair while the investigation is going on, saying “I’ll be here”. But is that really enough evidence to convict him?

Let’s look at some other points:

He is caught strangling the detective

It’s unknown why this occured, obviously because it was during the party scene, but it is a little odd.

He gets angry and throws a flask

(lmao look at tylers face)

And once again, it’s unknown why he acts out so angrily, as there isn’t much context involved. This, like strangling the detective, makes him a prime canidate for anger issues.

He has a gun (and is seen loading it)

This just takes the cake. Although it never directly states Mark was shot, we can’t rule out the option that he wasn’t.

The body is removed

Most people would probably just overlook this as a part of the plot, but I think it’s a desperate part for solving the crime. The viewer doesn’t see anymore of colonel (or the room Mark was dead in) after they speak with the colonel. That gives him plenty of time to move the body, maybe the motive for moving the body was because no one noticed Mark had been shot yet. And let’s not forget, the room the colonel was sitting in when we last saw him was right next to the crime scene.

His gun at the crime scene

C’mon man, his gun is LITERALLY found at the crime scene. I believe the colonel, as smart as he is, is also mentally unstable (reasoning for killing Mark). However, being so mentally unstable that you kill someone has got to lead you to making simple mistakes. Such as leaving your gun at the crime scene.

All in all, the colonel is atleast a suspect, and we can’t rule him, or anyone else, out just yet. 

Tink on Dabb and Spn

@whyjm replied: I love how you find the good in things <3

@m-sherezade I love Tinkdw positive! <3

I dont know how this happened, I just am positive I guess but I have somehow become the beacon of positivity in this part of the fandom lol. My inbox his morning is just all people wanting hugs and fluffy things as they’re so upset (rightly).

Genuinely, the decision to kill Eileen sucked BALLS, especially how they didn’t even USE it well to show the man pain it was supposed to. Also, I am unsure how this sits with Sam’s endgame as she was literally the beacon for it in so many different ways (probably it will just be overlooked cos everyone else knows this decision is just BL bullcrap) 

BUT I keep saying… the rest of the episode sits with where I feel it is going which is a more positive ending. 

Part of me just thinks this is Dabb picking his battles, he can’t fight Singer (and his wife) on everything and I do feel and hope that the big things he is fighting for is:

- Endgame happy ending for TFW
- Destiel

I mean who knows, maybe the duo wanted to kill either one of or multiples of Garth, Claire or Jody or someone much closer to home and Dabb was like no, bring back someone, build them up, then kill them (as BL wrote 12x17…) It’s at least slightly better? I mean they may kill another but perhaps this was them sparing ONE of them? BUT the way in which they did it was horrific and SO uncalled for. Damn them.

I may be totally wrong and they may surprise me with how terribly they want to end the show, how Dabb is just toying with us, how Singer has learned nothing from the past and that they don’t give a crap about the PR of anything, but until really, unequivocally proved otherwise, I just don’t believe that… 

Until concretely proven otherwise I want to see the good in the world…

Originally posted by cisco-imfineashell-ramon

moriart-ish-deactivated20170305  asked:

Hello! I don't know if you are still doing this, but I sinked into your little fics, thats why I'm asking for ♡ connected with ♢ for Feuilly/Bahorel? I absolutely loved them in a why you write about them! <3

i! Sorry, this took me a little while to get to, I was working through some midterm papers last week. But yes, I’m always open to talking headcanons! Always! I had to dig a bit to find which post these symbols were from and I think this is the one, right? if not message me!

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses


“I want first match against Feuilly, pretty sure all it’s gonna take to win that is a lullaby.”

“I’m not asleep,” said Feuilly, though Grantaire amused huff said he wasn’t buying it.  Feuilly had simply been resting his head against the truck’s window.  With his eyes closed.  He hadn’t actually been asleep.  Not that he could have been even if he had wanted to, there were toy wagons with better suspension than Bahorel’s death trap of a truck.

Bahorel twisted around in his seat to eye Feuilly.  “Better not be, wouldn’t want to only face R today – his feelings might get hurt if he loses that many times in a row.”

“As if, asshole.  Watch the damn road,” returned Grantaire from his place in the passenger seat, elbowing Bahorel harder than someone probably should elbow their driver.  “Just get us to the gym in one piece and then we’ll worry about naptime.”

It had become a routine several months ago when Grantaire and Bahorel realized they attended the same boxing gym.  He and Grantaire would shove their workout gear into their backpacks and head off to the gym together straight from campus after Friday classes.  It was the shared opinion that after being forced to spend a whole week in the company of their fellow students, profs, and unseemly amounts of homework that punching something was a good idea.  And since Feuilly almost always got a morning shift at work on Fridays, finishing just before the other two, he had started to join them.

Unfortunately it had undeniably been a very long week, and he’d been called into extra shifts because of someone getting sick, and was still desperately finishing the work for the couple classes he was able to take.  So he might be just a teensy bit tired.

“Seriously though,” said Bahorel after they had gotten to the gym and changed, “you sure you’re up for a fight today?  Might want to stick to the machines today.”

“Or a bed,” suggested Grantaire as he wrapped his hands.

“I’m fine,” insisted Feuilly, jamming his foot into a runner with a little more force than strictly necessary.  Objectively he knew there was nothing wrong with deciding to sit out and catch the bus home to nap – Grantaire and Bahorel certainly wouldn’t think anything of it – but his very gut recoiled at the idea of giving up and sitting out.  

“Come on, Taire.  If you’re ready let’s take the ring.”

Grantaire shrugged good-naturedly and trailed after him, as Feuilly had expected he would.  He was much less likely to try to argue the point of Feuilly looking tired beyond a couple jokes than Bahorel was.

“What, you don’t want to fight me, Feuilly?” Bahorel whined behind them. “Grantaire, what’s your secret for looking more punchable than me?”

“People assure me it’s from opening my mouth,” said Grantaire. “'Punchable’ just seems to fall out of it.”

“Come on, let me have the ring first and I’ll make sure I punch you twice as hard when we go.”

“Ooh, kinky,” drawled Grantaire, though he looked Feuilly dead on and rolled his eyes.  Feuilly had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Grantaire was already vacating the ring with an exaggerated, resigned sigh.  “Fine, fine, I won’t get in your way, guys.  Don’t have too much fun without me!”

“You’re not in anyone’s way, R,” said Feuilly, feeling like he’d missed a part of this conversation.

Suuure,” said Grantaire, sending Feuilly a huge, ridiculous wink.  Bahorel snorted and bounced into the ring across from Feuilly.

Why was Bahorel so determined to practice with him first though?  Since there was only the three of them, it was usual for two people to start sparring in the ring while the third went off to exercise on their own, and then they’d switch off.  Unless this was Bahorel fretting in his own strange way again, wanting to be the one to punch Feuilly when he was tired instead of someone else… not to say that made much sense either.  Why did Bahorel care?  Did Bahorel care, or was Feuilly just reading too much into this?  Maybe Bahorel was just impatient to fight, this was Bahorel after all.

Feuilly gave himself a shake as he got into position, trying to get the thought of Bahorel fretting out of his head.  It was odd because Bahorel did seem to be more and more concerned lately with things like Feuilly’s sleeping schedule or whether or not he’d had a big enough lunch.  It should be frustrating, to have someone trying to take care of him as if he wasn’t capable of doing it himself, and yet Feuilly couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed.  In fact if Feuilly was being honest Bahorel’s concern had been surprisingly… gratifying.  It made something warm and fluttery appear in his chest when he thought about the fact that Bahorel noticed him – not just as a friend, but really noticed him, enough to be worried about him.  It was… nice.

No, he did notice as a friend, he noticed like a good friend, a close friend, maybe, but still just a friend.  Get your fucking head on straight, Feuilly.  Bahorel was his best friend; he worried about Bahorel too, about him disappearing for entire nights into the city’s underbelly and not appearing until the next day or even later, or about the rougher crowds he ran with, or about the scars and cuts and stitches that were ever in flux across his skin.  It’s what friends did.    

And right now that friend was in a muscle shirt which would be a lot more distracting if he wasn’t also moving towards Feuilly with a fist raised.

When you were boxing with Bahorel it was definitely best not to be distracted.

Not even after you’d gone a few rounds at each other and sweat was beginning to slide down bare skin…

For a little while, the fighting was soothing.  It was nice at the end of a long week to sink into a space where all that you had to focus on was the position of your body and movements of your opponent.  It felt good to feel the wiry strength of his muscles flex, and feel confident of the strength in his body.  It felt really good to hear Bahorel whoop and cheer when either of them landed a good hit.

Feuilly was undeniably flagging though, and it felt less good when he was only just barely able to raise his guard in time to catch Bahorel’s punch hard against his arm.

The next punch he wasn’t able to move fast enough to avoid.


Bahorel just laughed as Feuilly fell back heavily.  He could have probably caught himself, thrown himself back up and at Bahorel – get the cocky son of a bitch in the ribs while he was cackling – but damn it Feuilly was tired. So he let himself fall back and lie down on the mat.

“You okay, dude?” Bahorel asked, leaning over him.

“Fine.” He pushed himself up – and with the adrenaline from the fight draining he now felt every hour he’d spent on his feet over the past week.  “Think I’m gonna take a short break though.”

“Sure, we’ll trade off with R.  I’ll go get us some water.  Good fight, man.”

Feuilly nodded and made his way to a bench on the wall.  He had meant to stand to the side and stretch a bit so he didn’t stiffen right up after the exertion but instead he found himself just tossing his gear to the side and collapsing back against the wall.

He didn’t realize his eyes had been slipping close until Bahorel sat down heavily next to him, jostling him awake, and passed him a water bottle which Feuilly took eagerly.

“Long day today?” Bahorel asked.

“Mm,” agreed Feuilly, before trying for something a little more articulate.

So instead of Bahorel rushing right off to spar with Grantaire they sat and chattered about their day for a bit – Bahorel had some very strong things to say about his Topics in Public Law prof but what else was new – until someone else strolled in and placed her bag on the edge of the bench so she could finish putting on her gear, making Bahorel shift closer to Feuilly to give her some more space.  Like this, Bahorel’s side was no pressed against Feuilly’s and he could feel the rumble of Bahorel’s words through his chest.  He was also very warm and very soft; Feuilly struggled to focus on what Bahorel was saying rather than the rhythmic rise and fall of the body against him as he spoke.

Feuilly didn’t do much better in this fight than in the one against Bahorel.


Bahorel paused in what he was saying when he felt Feuilly’s head drop against his shoulder.  Looking down, he almost couldn’t handle it.  Feuilly’s face was still flushed from the exercise and his curls were in disarray, spread across Bahorel’s shoulder, but his eyes were now closed and his face softened.

“You asleep, dude?” Bahorel whispered.

The only response he got was a flutter of breath against his shoulder, making his chest feel tighter than it had at any point during his actual, physical exercise.

(Except, possibly, when Feuilly had lunged back out of his reach and had taken just a moment to wipe his sweaty hair off his forehead.  But that was best not thought about too closely, at least not in public.)

When Feuilly shifted every so slightly, so that he was pressed more solidly against his side, Bahorel was struck with such a sudden impulse that he found his head snapping up to scout the rest of the room.  Everyone else was busy with their own workouts, and, most importantly, Grantaire was some ways off by the hanging bags, his back to them and phone out.

Let it never be said that Bahorel was a soul good at controlling his impulses.

Especially not when that impulse demanded he close those few inches between them and press a kiss to Feuilly’s forehead.

Besides, it was really a public service.  Feuilly deserved to be covered in kisses.  And Bahorel just so happened to be more than happy to help supply, especially when it was his best friend, exhausted and asleep on his shoulder after coming to exercise with him when he really should have bailed and gone to bed.

Well, at least he felt good about it until Feuilly startled awake and jumped up so quickly he slammed his head against Bahorel’s jaw.

“I– what– Bahorel did you– why?

“Fuck, shit, Feuilly, I’m so sorry, I thought you were asleep– I should have asked– no, I shouldn’t have don’t that at all– fuck.”

At least Feuilly didn’t spring up off the bench and leap out the gym window to get away from him like Bahorel was seriously considering doing to get out of this situation.  In fact Feuilly had only really pulled back enough to stare up at Bahorel with wide, groggy, confused eyes; their knees were still pressed together even.

“Why… why would you do that?”  He didn’t sound angry, Bahorel thought. Just… confused.  Maybe.  And something else, something small and shivery in his voice.

Bahorel scrubbed at the back of his neck, feeling more nervous than he had any right to considering this was Feuilly, his best friend, and he regularly drank with scarier people.  “Look, I dunno, you know me. I have a dumb idea and then I just kinda go with it…”

“A dumb idea?”

Something that could only be called hope swelled in Bahorel’s chest, bringing with it the confidence that Feuilly’s sudden awakening had scattered. He grinned and Feuilly.  “Yeah, real dumb idea.  Tryin’ to kiss you while you were asleep.  Kind of a lame move.  Should’ve waited until you were awake.  Or maybe should’ve done it back in the ring when I had you on the mats.”

Feuilly just gawked, making Bahorel suddenly worry that maybe he should have a word with those impulses of his, until Feuilly dragged a hand down his face and asked, “Am I dreaming?  Are you really…?  If you’re joking, you fucking asshole–”

“Hey Feuilly?  Wanna make out?”

It seemed that Bahorel wasn’t the only one with impulses because that was all it took to have Feuilly lunge across the bench, grabbing at Bahorel’s neck and pressing his mouth against Bahorel’s.  It lasted for a couple glorious moments, moments in which Bahorel got to wrap a hand around Feuilly’s waist and press another into his hair, before Feuilly pulled back, now half in Bahorel’s lap and head pressed against Bahorel’s shoulder.

“'Kay, but maybe let’s continue after I have a nap,” he said, a breathless laugh in his voice.  “Because I might actually pass out if I get anymore exercise without sleeping first.”

“'Exercise’, eh?”

Feuilly laughed again and punched Bahorel’s shoulder.  But he also settled against him, looking like he may very well fall asleep again.  Not that Bahorel would mind at all.  He was more than willing to write this gym session off if it meant he got to have a lapful of his sparring buddy.


bonus: if you were wondering what R was doing on his phone during all this

Imagine having to hold Dean back from a guy who was rude to you...

The air in the place suddenly felt like it was full of mercury; thick, pulsating, burning.

“What the hell did you just say to her?” Dean asked as he set his beer down.

You were still standing in the middle, looking down at your shirt which was wet from the drink the guy had spilled all over you. Uh oh… You gritted your teeth at the look on Dean’s face. “Dean,” you said, trying to head him off.

He held up a hand towards you as if to say “I’ve got this.” The guy at the bar now stood up from his stool and took a few steps toward Dean, matching his angry glare.

“What’s it to you? You going to do something about it?” The man asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a cocky leer.

“Dean,” you said again. You hoped your voice would jolt him off the road he was rapidly speeding down…

“I don’t think you realize who you’re talking to. Y/N over here is perfectly capable of kicking your ass herself. But she’s a little more reasonable than I am. She’s probably willing to just overlook this. Me on the other hand,” you saw Dean set his feet, getting ready to take a swing at the guy and you jumped in front of him.

“Dean. Come on. It’s not worth it,” you said holding your hands up. “Let’s just go.”

“I’d listen to twinkle-toes over there,” the man said with a sneer.

Dean tried to rush towards him but you squarely planted your feet and put your hands out, landing them firmly against his chest. He slowed immediately when he felt your hands on him, not wanting you to get hurt in the fray. He finally looked down at you.

“Parking lot. Now,” you said. You tugged on the front of his jacket and pushed your way outside. You knew he would follow. He wouldn’t want you alone, always fearful that as soon as he looked away something would happen to you.

Why Dumbledor let Harry grow up with the durselys

So the realization just hit me, a little late I may say, but in the philosophers stone Dumbledor is so keen on making sure that Harry stays with the durselys knowing how terrible they are, and in the half blood Prince we learn the Tom/voldemort grew up in an orphanage. What if the reason why Dumbledor wanted Harry to grow up with the durselys was becuase he was scared that I’d he grew up else where he would end up just like him [voldemort]. I mean it probably was the reason and I was probably just overlooking it the whole time.

What’s truly sad about Sammi’s character is all the potential being squandered in favour of having her fill Frank’s shoes in the Gallagher household. There are moments, so far and few between that they’re difficult to remember amidst all the more annoying scenes she’s been in, where Sammi is actually almost likable.

Although it was rushed (what else is new) I feel like the reason Ian felt so betrayed by Sammi is because she actually paid attention to him without judgement or looking at him like he’s a ticking time bomb. She noticed when he hurt his hand and insisted she help him look after it. He made a comment in passing about his time in the army, something his siblings probably would have just overlooked, but Sammi actually listened. And sure, it probably wasn’t out of the goodness of her heart by the time he was done because she used that information against him in the end, but it didn’t have to be that way.

And when Ian and Mickey walk into the house and Sammi stops them and talks about what a great person Ian is and about how it’s going to be hard for him, the look on Ian’s face is so vulnerable and surprised because nobody has ever said that to him. Ian is so often overlooked in this family that he doesn’t know how to react when he’s not just slipping under the radar. What Sammi said to him was honestly so important and something he needed to hear, but the importance of that is completely overshadowed by her turning him in. The writers seem torn between wanting her to be Frank and wanting her to be Fiona, so they keep going back and forth between the two, but the Sammi we saw last season listening to Debbie and painting her nails? That’s who she really is, if the writers would just let her. Unfortunately, there’s no going back from what she did and now we’re stuck with her filling in as an antagonistic character.

Carmilla Week Seven!

Damn. carmillaseries I gotta tip my hat to anamatics and Jordan - they can cram a metric fuck-ton of stuff into such a short time.

Yes you were. Which is a bit weird.

Perry is learning, and trying and it’s progress and I love it. Carm points out that Will wasn’t her nemesis.

THANK YOU. Perry, the voice of reason. As much as the whole LaFrankenstein thing is being played for laughs, it’s a bit weird. I said in an earlier post that this probably violates some kind of scientific ethical code and just because science can do A Thing, it doesn’t mean it NEEDS to do A Thing. Vampire or no, things were violated here. LaF is veering into murky, morally ambiguous Mad Scientist territory.
Also thank you Laura.

LaF: I fucked up.
Carmilla: This is fuckin’ weird.
JP: The fuck is that?

(JP’s exit made me laugh so much. I need to not watch this in public sometimes.)


Hold up. That timeline of great-great grandfather doesn’t line up. Original, Original, Original, yeah? He’s the original Baron who maybe isn’t immortal but found some way to slow down the aging process. Also note the “promised”. She likely had no say in the matter and as a wild babyvamp, yeah, she’s gonna kill people. Kinda what vampires do, kinda shouldn’t be a surprise right now, Hollis. “Murder her for Christmas” ring any bells?
Laura decides a protest is the way to go about stopping Mattie because that is definitely going to stop a centuries-old, very powerful vampire and not at all annoy her.

And then there was this. (I’m not defending Laura nor am I going to drag her for it). Was it a good thing to say? Not really. Is she young, rash and prone to acting and saying things without thinking? Yep. This is a “I’m too busy to help your brutally damaged self esteem and carry your emotional baggage, but I need you to be strong and heroic, so just do that” statement.
She’s so focused on Mattie, she’s not looking at the bigger picture. Mattie is a vampire who worked for the Dean and therefore she’s bad. The Baron was helping the students and is (as far as we know) entirely human, so he’s good. But is he really? We know as much about him as we do about Laura. One thing we do know about Laura is that she tends to see things in black and white, which is what she’s done with Mattie and the Baron. Will this backfire? Maybe. Is she right in thinking that Mattie=bad and Baron=good? Probably not. Mattie was at least willing to talk to her a bit more (though I admit we might see more of the Baron and learn more from him in the future).

So was her statement harsh? Totally. But consider the source. She’s trying so hard to save everything and everyone and since she still sees Carmilla as a heroic figure AND she’s her girlfriend, she’s going to lean on her for support. And since Carmilla loves her, she’ll do what she can, even if it’s not entirely emotionally healthy.

There are cracks in the foundation of not just the relationship, but of how Laura is seeing the world. The greys are seeping in and she’s trying her hardest to keep it all black and white.

Hoooooooboy. Episode 14. “Sous les Paves” is under the…stones? Underground? Hm.

Laura wrangles Danny into helping with the protest, “led by Heroic Vampire, Carmilla Karnstein” and bro you really gotta lay off on that stuff.

The enthusiasm is astounding.

The protest didn’t go well. Laura seemed to expect a quick visit from Mattie after their “civil disobedience” but come on now.

Exactly. She’s got bigger things to worry about.

Well that’s not fuckin’ creepy at all. Nothing good ever comes from eerie, ominously whispered Latin. “On dark wings I come, and I will be the keeper of your death.” That’s about as cheery as “from beneath you, it devours”.

Goddamnit Perry cannot catch a fucking break. So in case you couldn’t tell, I’m a bit of a nerd. I looked up what dreaming about crows would mean, since she had a dream about them:
“To see a crow in your dream represents death and the darker aspects of your character. The dream could also be pointing out your annoying habits. Alternatively, the crow may be conveying a message from your subconscious. To dream that crows are on the attack indicates a conflict with your subconscious.“ Darker aspects of your character, eh? Darker as in evil as in the Dean who occasionally possesses you? 

I’ll just leave this here.

Is it really Mattie, though? She’s old and powerful but would she also be a swarm of crows? And yes, why is Perry such a target?

Nope. Laura’s so caught up in the good-vs-evil fight, she’s probably overlooking this just a little. Mattie=bad=must be stopped at all costs. I spent a lot of this episode going “oh god Laura. Laura no. Laura, please think about this for a second.”


OH FFS use your brain. No. No it will not. I saw this and I literally snort-laughed. Gonna take a bit more than Mr Pointy to bring her down.

Aw shit, guys, we need a new plan.

So the Charter gives her legit powers. Awesome. There’s probably some weird clause in there too that says she can’t be kicked off or taken off and the powers are only revoked when she’s dead.


There it is. The jibes and poking and comments have reached a breaking point. The angst is coming, people. Grab a drink and a blanket and settle in. Carmilla FINALLY says no to Laura. Good for you. Good. Clearly she’s not catching on that you’re uncomfy with the hero worship and all that. It’s not Carmilla’s crusade, it’s Laura’s. And while I’m sure she loves Laura and wants to support her, there’s only so much she can do. And so much she can take. Laura’s off on her own heroic crusade and wants to save everyone but Carm still just wants Laura.

Still no Giraffe Shirt of Doom in the preview. Whew.

Crazy theory of the day: the Corvae guys are taking samples because they need a special kind of person to open the First Gate. A key, if you will.

me, an asian sometimes transboy: THIS IS MY CALLING

me: can’t act for fucking shit

me: has a transphobic family