shoot your life

I think this is reading a book together? Yes? Ok. let’s do this. 

Keith’s old shack smells of wood varnish and old paper. Specks of dust shine and dance in the beams of afternoon sun, and Keith sits in the centre of his small living room surrounded by boxes. He flicks through a book and smiles fondly at the familiar faces that look up at him. 

“Hey babe! Can we donate all these crop jackets?!” Lance’s voice calls from the bedroom. 

“No!” Keith yells back.

“But they don’t even fit you anymore! And I don’t want these fashion disasters in our apartment!”

Our apartment. Keith’s heart thrums at those words. His grin blooms across his face. 

“I think I can make them fit!” He laughs. 

Soft foot falls announce Lance’s entrance into the living room. he lets out a suffering sigh. 

“Babe. Babe. Look. Babe look at this.”

Keith looks up. On the other side of the room Lance stands wearing one of his crop jackets. It reaches just barely under his pecks. The sleeves reach just under his elbow, and the seams at the shoulder look like they’ll burt. 

“There’s no way you can wear these anymore.” He deadpans. 

“I’m smaller than you. Not my fault you got insanely ripped.”

“Keith! You’re not 16 anymore!” Lance implores. “And your biceps are way bigger than mine.” To prove it to him, Lance runs up behind Keith and grabs his shoulders. He gently sways them from side to side and runs his hands admiringly up and down his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Bench press me, baby. I know you can.”

“Laaaaance,” Keith laughs. Lance chuckles and leans forward. His arms wrap around Keith’s neck and he rests his chin on top of his head. His long legs slot next to Keith’s easily. 

“Is it weird being back here?” Lance asks quietly. Keith leans into Lance’s chest. 

“Yeah….” He sighs. “But it’s nice… being here with you. Getting that sense of closure, you know?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to…” Lance looks down and spies the book in Keith’s lap. He freezes. 

“Nooooo way.” He whispers. He moves to look over Keith’s shoulder, and his arms tuck under Keith’s. He reaches forward and takes the book from Keith’s hands, flicking it closed and staring at the cover.

Garrison 2063 Yearbook 

“Holy shit…” Lance whispers. Keith chuckles and it rumbles against him. 

“I know, right? I found it while packing.”

“We have to keep this.”

“Absolutely.” Keith smiles. “Here wanna see something crazy?” He excitedly flicks to a page. A small photo of Pidge looks up at them. Hair cut short. Glasses comically big on her small face. 

“OOOOHHHHHH my god.” Lance squeals gleefully. “WHAT A TINY BABY.”

Keith giggles. “Remember how you thought she was a boy?”

“Look at this photo! You can’t blame me! Look at this tiny androgynous child.” They both laugh. Lance’s muscular forearms wrap and squeeze around his boyfriend’s stomach. 

“There’s also this.” Keith holds up a new page. Hunk’s 17 year old face beams up at them. There’s the mature eyes that Keith and Lance are used to, but there are traces of baby fat around his jaw. His trademark orange headband is also much brighter than either of them remember it being. Years of sweat, sun and being blown into space have since turned his headband almost a pastel colour. 

“Was Hunk ever small?”

“As someone who’s known him since we were 10…” Lance pauses. “No.” He laughs. “Dude could pick up most of our teachers from the time he was 12. I know this because I dared him to.”

Keith shakes his head. 

“I don’t doubt it.”

They continue to flip through pages. Some faces they barely recognise, others have been completely lost to time. They reach the staff pages and Keith and Lance proceed to flip off Iverson and the other instructors that expelled Keith. 

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

In the staff section, smiling up with a handsome face and beautiful dark hair is Shiro. Both of his arms are clearly visible, and there’s no scar marking his face. His eyes gleam with youthful optimism. Guilt churns in Keith’s stomach.

“God…” He deflates. “He looks so young.”

Lance squeezes him tightly. 

“He certainly… has changed.” He presses a kiss to Keith’s temple and brushes his fingers along a scar that courses through his eyebrow. Keith looks down to see Lance’s prosthetic foot nudging his thigh. 

“But so have we.” Lance smiles. “We’re all ok. Shirt’s ok now. And while things were hard…” He presses another quick kiss to Keith’s cheek. “I wouldn’t change anything.”

Keith turns his head towards his boyfriend. His mouth quirks into a grin and he presses a smiling kiss to Lance’s lips. 

“Me neither.” 

“Also…” Lance smirks. His hands hurriedly flick through the pages until he barks out a laugh.

“Can you PLEASE admit that you had a fucking mullet?” He cackles. Keith looks down at the photo and groans loudly.

“Oh my god, look at this child.” He sighs. “Why is he so moody?!” He yells at his 16 year old self. 

“You stupid boy, you don’t even know you’re an alien yet! No one’s shooting at you! Your life is great!” Keith yells. Lance howls with laughter behind him. 

“I think he’s mad…” Lance wheezes, “Because he’s super fucking gay for this handsome boy here…” Lance points at the photo of his teenager self, “But this boy thinks he’s an asshole.” 

Keith coos at the photo of Lance. He brings the book closer to his face and smiles dopily. 

“God you were cute.”

“Were?” Lance blusters. 

Keith hums. He rotates and leans into Lance’s chest. A low chuckle escapes him. 

“You’ve become the hottest and most handsome person in the universe.” He runs his hands across Lance’s broad chest. 

“And I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The yearbook lies forgotten on the floor as Lance leans down to languidly kiss Keith until the afternoon sun slips into the horizon. 

I always thought it was funny that your player character in Pokemon is 10 years old. Like, yeah, they’re “anime ten” where they look at least 18 yadda yadda, but they’re still ten.

Imagine the people in the Pokemon League. These are fully grown adults, right? They’ve trained their entire lives to be the best trainers in their country. They’re the best of the best. And then a ten year old walks in. A high and mighty four foot tall ten year old with a big smile on their face walks in. They’ve never even seen a tity. They don’t know where babies come from. They’re ten.

How did this ten year old get in to your arena? Did they wander in here by mistake? They say they’re here to battle you. Aww, how cute. This kid wants to fight the big league trainers, so they snuck in to fight you. That’s cute and funny. You’ll tell the others about this next lunch break. You decide to humor the kid and accept their challenge. You toss out your level 50 Tyranitar. You and this Pokemon have spent decades together, you trained for ages to get it to Level 50. You’re the best trainer in the country.

The kid reaches on their belt and tosses a Master Ball. Wait, what? A Master Ball? How did that kid get a Master Ball? Out of the master ball pops…


God popped out of the Master Ball. 

The very same God Pokemon that controls the flow of space, that you go to church and pray to every Sunday. 

This ten year old kid just pulled out a Master Ball and threw God at you. God is, in fact, Level 73. 

God shoots Hyper Beam at your life-long partner Tyranitar, causing it to evaporate in to dust. He’s fainted in one hit. The kid yawns.

The kid wipes your entire party of Pokemon, the Pokemon you spent most of your adult life training and caring for. You are stunned. You ask the trainer how long they’ve been doing this. They say “I started a couple of days ago.”

This kid is ten. 


“I hesitated.”

shaw’s not a fan of her decor but she is a fan of root, so it all works out 

[on redbubble]


Cal Lightman: You’re a terrible liar.
Dr. Gillian Foster: Normal people think that’s a good thing.

for nicola | ilu ♡

“Time of Your Life” by Green Day was played at Elliot Rodger’s fifth grade graduation. Every time he heard the song, it brought back good memories.


Stereotypes about black people (thanks, mainstream media) are glued to our skin everytime we go out and can mean death penalty when a cop happens to be there.

My blackness alone can send me to the grave tomorrow, today, anytime. I have to be careful about every single thing. So here’s a few tips to ensure a safe life.

Well okay, to TRY to save your life. Cause cops are really scared of black folks, they think we’re demons. To prove them we’re not, we shall do this every time we see them…

Don’t talk too loud.
Don’t talk ghetto.
Well. Just don’t talk.

Don’t go at pool parties or any party in an all white neighborhood. Even if you’re invited. People gonna think you’re here to disturb the peace and and annoy all the sweet and innocent white folks.

Don’t buy skittles or any kind of candies. Okay, let’s say you still buy them, don’t put them in your pocket.
Don’t put your hands your pocket.
They need to see your hands, to make sure you don’t have a gun, a knife… you know.

Forget your bitch face if you’re black. Cause if you don’t smile, they are gonna feel very threatened. So put the brighest smile on your face, make them happy.

Don’t wear a hoodie, fly sneakers, or any piece of clothes that can remind of the “hood” or the “ghetto”. They gonna think you’re a gang member and shot you with no mercy.

Never post picture of you smoking, twerking, dancing, throwing the middle finger , or any picture not showing you in a positive light. When you’ll die, CNN, FOX NEWS and other powerful media outlets will show these images to the world to prove you’re a worthless thug, a threat to society that deserved to die anyway.

Don’t defend yourself. Self defense is not allowed for black people. If you fight back, they gonna say you’re a criminal.

Don’t start an argument about police brutality and racism with these sweet white folks. They gonna remind you of this: police is doing their job. But YOU, you are killing each other already in the hood. So you can’t be mad, you know.

There are other tips I think. But I’m running out of ideas. There are so many things to think and be careful about as a black individual.

The easiest way to avoid being killed as a black person would be simply NOT TO BE BLACK. If we could erase our blackness or just be really really light skinned, maybe cops, white people, would be nicer with us.

But I CAN NOT erase my blackness.
We can’t. We could NOT pass as whites even if we wanted to. Heck, they didn’t even claimed Michael Jackson as a white person even after his skin turned white. But Rachel Dolezal can be black easily. And Dylan Roof is a “very light skin black boy”. Yeah.

I guess society wants black born people to act accordingly to white and eurocentric standards, rules, feelings.

Sigh. I can’t even exist for myself, like, just myself, no. My existence is meant for the sole comfort of white people and my allegiance to them. Making sure they don’t feel this, and don’t think that. Woah.


permanentfandomtrash  asked:

Have you ever thought about what it would be like in the others shoes, as if Seb were the boss and Jim were right hand man?

M!A: 14 left

*Sebastian reads the question to Jim as Jim lays back with his head on Sebastian’s lap.*

Jim: That’s a very interesting thought, actually. What would it be like?

Sebastian: I don’t know. I do know that you wouldn’t have any missions though because you can’t shoot to save your life.

*Jim pouts but then considers it.*

Jim: You’re right. But then maybe I would help plan and organize things. And help you manage your temper.

*Sebastian rolls his eyes.*

Sebastian: And I would be the one going to meetings and shit. Wouldn’t need anyone to look intimidating for me like you do.

Jim: What’s that supposed to mean?

*Sebastian laughs and pokes Jim’s nose.*

Sebastian: You know exactly what I mean, liebling.

Rules: Name an artist and answer these questions just by using song titles from that artist.

Gender:  Amazing Bad Lady 
Describe yourself: My Face 
How do you feel: I’ll Be Fine
If I could go anywhere: Sky High
Your best friend: Ying Yang (she the ying to my yang lmao)
Favourite time of the day: Shooting Star
If your life was a TV-show, what would it be called: Holiday (basically following me on a quest to FINALLY GET A HOLIDAY PLEASE)
What is life for/to you: Crazy
Relationship status: No No No  
Your fears: Future

Got tagged by: @memer-than-you
I’m tagging: @trendylesbian @takuhsin @jichangswooks and anyone else who wants to give it a go! 

“she’s great. i have known her for a long time. it makes your job very easy when you are with someone who is so good at what they do. and who she is as a person, makes the whole experience even better. she is funny, smart and she has a beautiful little girl too. she brings her to the set and I get a little baby time in!”

 - jeremy renner on shooting ‘story of your life’ with amy adams